This damned malaise,


Stripping cohesive thought

Removing propriety

Shattering confidence,



Reduced to moments,


Single breaths

Repeated, repeated, repeated

Until the next diversion,

The next humiliation,

The next terror.

How could a loving God invent such torment?

Or, with our limitless free will

Did we bring it on ourselves?

Blast this wretched condition to Hell,

With all the pitiful attempts to avoid it

And all the head games played to ignore it.

Blast it all to Hell!


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