Poetry

You don't understand, 
What it is I must do, 
Either I struggle alone or fall, 
As a failure of dreams to prove, 
 
I can never gain momentum, 
I rest as a being of potential energy, 
Not a crack of light or a dull of thunder, 
Can budge this guilt with redundancy, 
 
To feel what coarses within me, 
No man could ever one day relive, 
Beyond years of pain and heavy remorse, 
What is left of me to give? 
 
A million plus dreams, 
Only to equal an epiphany of a sham, 
The remedy, the nightmares, the experience, 
Vanished to live with the damned, 
 
You'll never know the mistakes I've made, 
Even if it is walking down the street, 
The only thing it does is haunt me, 
So now the devil is who I will meet.