Undermined

You

are the wave

which crashes my shore,

washing my substance far off to sea;

You

are the wind

which batters my door,

deluging undertow, wearing down Me.

You

find it odd

that my road cannot bear

the weight which it should, and so you fume;

You

count it strange

that my countenance wears

a funeral pall, like a runaway tomb.

You

still deny

what your actions have done,

your heart, calloused over, waxes blind;

You

will still try

with your bullying run

to make sure that my path’s undermined.

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