Put on

It's lonely at the top
but the bottom isn't much better
ride the middle in hopes of peace
only to discover peace is release
freedom from the weight of the world
even atlas needed a break
we as mere mortals are not created for this
our purposes however is a joke
the instant we find satisfaction pain finds us
cynical humor in which the only punch line in existence
is the sensation one feels as the stomach and heart drop
scars appear internally as hate finds it way externally
open arms turn to clinched fists
sympathetic ears tune out cries of agony
the fire that once burned so fiercely no longer keeps the heart warm
a vessel made to love now returns to its monotonous rhythm
only keeping alive one who wishes otherwise
for the pain is too heavy of a burden
everything is dropped while things of old become reacquainted
while they merely temporary plug the hole
the damn will burst in due time
and in doing so
ones will only think to thank God for the rain