Defective Perspective

This grief with which I’m stricken —

Can I face it? I’m too chicken —

No antidepressant,

Touches my crescent —

Long gone are the days of transcendence —

I am now waiting out my sentence —

What vice can make the pain lessen?

I haven’t yet learned my lesson —

On me the pain bites and gnaws —

I cannot accept this world for its flaws —

Gripped am I by its sharp claws —

Ruefully subject to its harsh laws —

On me she’s closed her jaws,

Is the revolution a lost cause?

Can my bleeding find a pause,

From any form of mortal gauze?

The liberation I thought I was sworn,

Lays in my hands, tattered and torn,

I am left too empty to even mourn —

Can I take back ever being born?

Any form of spiritual high,

Crashes down around me, it was all a lie…

Just kidding, I’m still fuckin fly.


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