Stains Of Woe Poem by LoraMae Hawkins

every day they come unwanted to me
each second of their presence i hate
refusing as though it would matter
in denial that i indeed am enslaved
i never know from whence they come
accompanied by mournful strains
in my surprise, they overtake my world
filling my chest with a physical pain
as if i were at war with a grave enemy
i sweep them away in my displeasure
to no avail they come still in vengeance
as though in numbers never measured
a purpose it is said for every little thing
my question would undoubtedly be
what good, this river that flows undaunted
leaving stains of woe upon my cheek