Quagmire of Ones Mind. By Al Ray.

The ravages of time,

The footprints in grime,

Scars which cause is forgotten,

Wounds that scars begotten,

Fist shaken at the world,

While for it ones love is unfurled,

Mists of time and fog of recollection,

That what is lost had no vindication,

Yet what is lost can be found once more,

Like a shell buried on a shore,

Human mind is a battlefield unparalleled,

Where one is one's enemy that most be quelled,

Yet victory is the best for both and none,

In the place where imagination has run,

That swamp is a hall of knowledge matched by few,

But recollection if oft as elusive as morning dew,

Thrive one does long after damage rendered,

After seeking solace in ones kindred,

If knowledge is power,

Why does one who has it is oft very dour,

Question asked and answers sought,

To salved the damage that has been wrought,

Damage done by nature's whim,

And children teasing grim,

Childhood lost,

Sought for at much cost,

But good has been formed,

Where personalities have been dormed,

Strengthened they have been now,

Like a battleship's bow,

This quagmire has been forded,

As the halls been reboarded,

Triumph has been obtained,

From the things that have been pained.