There's a certain measure

Of frustration that's building

And it feels so immature

In some ways, looks for sure

It's just a life spent battling

The mental anguishes of abuse

And as this suffocating fog was

Clearing finally, it's the body's turn

The one struggle glided right 

Into another formidable barrier

And the only direction it can head

Is complete dependence, a live death

It feels like life is a sincere cheat

Always interfering with efforts of hope

And so, yes, my frustration is building

In a manner it's never been felt before