what can’t be cured

Today the wine of life turned bitter.
Pain seeped into my mind and heart
with the almond flavor 
of bespoke poison,
although I could not tell you
exactly why it came.
I only know that it’s colour
is the deepest, darkest blue
and that I must close my eyes
for fear that I may drown.

Bright hope, that giver of strength,
left by a different door.
While patience, at an end with indecision, 
pride and self-delusion,
followed closely behind.
But, just as a dying flower cannot
help but lose its petals and decay,
so must I rest my weary head
and accept that nothing will cure 
the cause of my despair.

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