Stuck

What is this wretched filth at the back of my throat?

Cough! Hack!

It is the phlegm of life’s injustice.

I can barely breathe now from its consistency.

Those who are honest are burdened with more truth than they can bare,

While the liars walk free

Earning fame with their crimes.

Someone told me once that life is a journey.

Now, I am stuck in the bog,

And I am only sinking.

Here now, lift me up, if you will.

Take me back to the road,
But shield me from that which stalks me

That I might breathe easy

If only for a while.