Tales of Torment: Distances

these tales of torment speak what my voice just can't,

what my silence shouts‐

i hate to say i'd prefer to purge every of my predilections,

than to let perpetual longing be the loss of my being

i hate to count just how many times this "gift" of the present has coerced hurt into my hands,

and hung over my head, things like hope‐

all the while

i am held in a torrent of torment

i hate to say that to chance i've been the fool that finds out,

just how quickly time is running out

toeing the line of all limits,

patience thinner than the ice i skate on

only one step, from being one step too far‐

how far is home now?

all that's left,

and all that can come next

so close, yet so far‐

i hate to say,

how distances can be so taunting,

to an unyielding yearning‐

i hate to say,

how numbness is just so enticing

to maybe, just a victim of timing

these tales of torment are telltale signs of exactly what they tell

not a story to sell

and deeper than any wish at a well

these tales of torment speak,

what my heart can only scream