“Betrayed and wronged in everything,
I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is king,
and seek some spot unpeopled and apart
Where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.” - Moliere
I lie in wake of my own collapse
sighing in disgust at the sight of my own reflection,
I’ll make a grave to hide my face from prying eyes
Dispirited
lacking confidence
searching for stability
desperately trudging aimlessly
to find the means of relief
fearing death, and afraid to live,
I’ll hide myself to spare the shame
buried in this trench I’ve made
soil and silt cover me to hide my face from prying eyes
In my time, I’ve wandered in efforts to find
some sort value in this husk of a life
I’m struggling to find the worth in this
Desperately trudging aimlessly to find the means of relief
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