The Hour of Eleven

I carried a burden on my shoulder
It weighed on me like a heavy boulder
In the morning
I lie in bed mourning

I went to Mr. Love
But my problems he could not solve
I went to Mr. Lust
But I left in pure disgust

I went to Mr. Friend
Yet my troubles did not end
I went to Mr. Foe
He chased me with an arrow and a bow

So I went to Mr. Wine
But all he did was make me whine
I went to Mr. Weed
But he planted my doom’s seed

I turned to Mr. Sleep
But my burden only grew deep
I searched for Mr. Hope
But he was well beyond my scope

I tried calling Mr. Suicide
But even he wasn’t on my side
I cried every night and day
For my burden to be taken away

But at the hour of eleven
I turned to my Father in heaven
My heavy burden was lifted
And my weary soul was uplifted.

About the Author

Prince Will👁️

Poet, with a special love for rhymes.
Great insights. I write poetry of different categories. Respect for the eye 👁️,that sees a message in everything.

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