The Brunt Of Demise

Much comfort lies in self pity when in deep waters To look at the obstacle and ruminate how to alter it Nor to gaze at the hindrance and cry foul helpless Is but a precious waste of time which slaves the most. When thrown in the pit by life to languish slowly to nothing, Ton see glory and honour leave your sight and never crowned, To be mistaken for a thug or a low-brow by some scum citing Impertinent illicit response mocks one with feeling belittled. If the sun can stop rising from the east then I can too give in, If the waves halt harnessing from the shore then I can give up, If the evergreen ivy loses its sheen then I too can call it a day, If the seasons can alter then I too can throw in the towel. The brunt of demise is the aftermath of hoping against hope, To feel aspired even in the most darkest hour with courage.