there is nothing in existence I can satisfy
there is no kind of persistence that can pacify
this constant need for more
or restore the person i once was before
there are no options - there is no substitute
for the soul unable to execute
anything, nothing without pain
but through the suffering I will remain
to continue the struggling-to feel the strain
carrying round this weight on my brain
it all being same, forever and unending
my grief's looking like balls and chains
in the light under Saturns ascending
the stars brighten as the moon wanes
to warn of the darkness impending