Sara Stowell - Realization

We are often left alone
in the wreckage of the world.
Just contenders to the throne
with our righteous flags unfurled.

Plodding through our wasted lives
with no semblance of regret.
Worker bees inside the hives,
hoping we will get there yet.

Dreams of life now turned to dust,
smashed against our failure wall.
Loss of hope and holy trust,
leaving misery on call.

Mountains that we chose to climb,
far too high for simple skills.
We ran out of precious time;
time that broke our trusting wills.

Years of hoping now well spent,
lost in darkness of the past.
Chances came and chances went,
dreams diminished far too fast.

Things repeated every day
made these feelings very strong.
Broke us down in every way,
knowing we had done it wrong.

Time is such a cruel thing,
leaves us barren to the bone.
Then with nothing left to bring,
all our seeds have now been sown.

Take no time to pity me,
I am but a number now.
I shall rest most fitfully
when I take my final bow.

Sara Stowell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/realization-7/