Staring down the younker barrel
I see the burdening of children
helplessly observing peril
for a weary, washed-out pilgrim.
Weakened faculties apparent
urge the impulse to succumb
and the pumping heart through skin transparent
is foresight into days to come.
When you find me withering
and quivering beyond repair
I beg you not to do a thing
or even bother spare a prayer.
May bravery abide
by my side upon the wide abyss.
And may I face it open-eyed
When plunging down the P