A Shell of One's Former Self

An eternal spring of hopeless grief surges.
Floods the surface of my conscious being.
In this barren land it appears the one relief.
Although it's from a place where nothing nourishes.

Haunted by ghosts of lives passed by.
Every tower of hope, crumbling.
Every field of love, withering.

What fruit not spoiled by spite remains?
What love destroyed by undue wrath?

After decades have passed,
By this foul water sustained.
The harm, irreversible.