Lament

Why does the past relentlessly regurgitate a searing sorrow?
I need the inescapable nudity left by pain; dormant yet constantly restless,
Unfathomable depth where evil conceals its wickedness, lurking on a possible tomorrow.
Cloaked with an unwanted fear, I remain its prisoner, worn and lifeless.

Yearning for an escape from the hellish pleasure of my sufferings,
I recall my past and drown in an exquisite torment.
Can I eviscerate all the torture I fermented in my feelings?
In all likelihood, I will continue to cradle mournfully this pathetic lament.