Just beneath the placid surface
there lies an internal ferment
confusion unspoken and unnamed
a silent, gentle, slow torment

Questions many, go unanswered
the genesis just beyond grasp
motives doubted, judgements made
Spectres rising from the past

A chronic ache, somewhat familiar
and yet quite different than before
What could bring about this sadness
with no apparent reason for?

Is it a feeling long forgotten
Some half-remembered pain exposed?
Or some new, faceless perturbation
some new hurt, real or supposed?

Longing to untie the knot within
fear of what it may release
Would the aftermath be worth the price
for this pain to cease?

Without true knowledge of the cause
How can one predict effect?
Would others suffer for your freedom?
Is that a risk you can accept?

No wish to propagate the sorrow
To other souls for which you care
Better to just remain tangled
and pray for strength this pain to bear