Nameless

I see myself in 'dying cattail stalk;
My stem is dry, my flowers crisp maroon.
I watch them fade, realizing that soon
I'll not be worth the ground 'pon which i walk.

I watch the Lord, my refuge, sail away
And with him goes my soul's security.
Fair harmonies, so rich in purity,
Now fail in consolation when they play.

A woman's touch that once may've calmed my mind
Now leaves me barren, shaking in its wake.
Still comrades wish that, for my own life's sake,
I share with them; but they, to me, are blind

To this, the bevy of my tormentings;
The myriad of ill-begotten acts
That me befell or I have caused in pact.
Thus I have burned my cold rememberings.

These fires burn beneath my whithered heart
Engulfing that deceptive, evil part
of that has undoubtedly me led
to this: the point where I wish I were dead.