Torment (a poem)

I cast aside a book I see
that centres on philosophy
and read instead a diary
with every page a memory
that links the past to you and me
and our intended prophecy
of endless times of being 'we'

I notice, with each page I turn
that once I've satisfied a yearn
my heart performs a swift U-turn
a kind of hatred starts to churn
I cast aside the love I earn
the things I have, I tend to burn
I wonder if I'll ever learn?

My book of life is filled with days
of failing in a million ways
existing in amongst the strays
ignoring all the work that pays
hating music as it plays
thinking that the world betrays.
I must accept it as it lays...

RC 25-4-26