Plight Of Desire Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Strangled by the purpose of human values no longer counted
among attributes of today, the unlisted age of carefree
sexual pleasures has arrived.

Wholesomely decaying energies of people, lying them in early
graves, filled with the diseases of our day.

Lined up, heads hung low, shuffling their feet, saddened by
the plight of aids and other similar diseases.

There seems to be no caring, no compassionate hearts to see
the bleeding of another's shame.

Forgotten on back roads, misery takes over, staking it's
claim like a prospector with his mine.

Yet, there are no riches to be found anywhere, death lies
waiting at every doorstep, claiming it's ownership of souls
in the end.

Tears are shed, no more life held inside except the warmth
of died-down passion.

Holding close, several moments of spoken contact or hugs
given sparingly, protected in quiet memories, held tightly
in fists of sorrow, let go of only when death takes over.