by Kenda Robertson

Created on: June 05, 2010

From north or south, or east or west,

It welcomes pain as its humble guest.

It hits you like the devil’s breath,

And makes you cry for life, or death.

Stealing moments, sometimes years,

It takes the time and spreads the fears.

Slowly nourishing all who fall

Into its grip. Up against its wall.

Bone and stone, moan and groan,

Its power sits on a mighty throne.

It comes so sure as dark descends.

And when you lose, it always wins.

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