Primitive Agony

In the depths of ancient times, where shadows lie,

A primal agony was born, with every sigh.

From the heart of man, a wild and untamed beast,

A symphony of pain, lamenting without release.

Across the rugged lands, where echoes still resound,

The cries of ancient souls, forever unbound.

In caves and darkened pits, draped in sombre clay,

The primitive agony consumed the light of day.

It lingered in the air, a haunting melody,

A language of despair, etched in history.

From battles fought and lost, from wounds that never heal,

The primitive agony seeped, a wound that couldn't seal.

Through barren wilderness, it roamed, relentlessly,

A spectre of the past, forever senseless.

With each passing age, it found new forms to take,

Adapting and evolving, its power would stake.

From the fires of war, where bloodshed marked the land,

To the ache of unrequited love, like shifting sand.

Its essence intertwined, with every human plight,

The primitive agony held fast with all its might.

Yet through the veil of darkness, a sliver of hope,

A flicker in the abyss, just waiting to elope.

For in our primal hearts, beats a resilient spark,

A strength to face the agony, and reclaim the dark.

We learn from ancient wounds, and rise above the pain,

To build a brighter future, where agony can't sustain.

We transform despair, into resilience and grace,

And rewrite the narrative, for a better place.

So amidst the cries of anguish, let us not forget,

That even in the agony, there's strength to beget.

For in the depths of pain, we find our human core,

And in the face of agony, we rise forevermore.