A point in space,
promises of anguish
on the horizon
are the only
foreseen remedy
for the misery
that plagues me now.
Format
will no longer
suffice;
nothing
can contain
this bitter emotion.
I think
it’s pain;
all dreams
are beyond
convention.
Through
no practical
means can
they be pursued.
No medication
will
mitigate my woe,
endless as
time,
I drown
in sorrow,
unable
to shake
the confines
of my
own pity.
My introversion
solidifies
my hollow
state,
the ambivalence
evidence
of my fate.
Desperate for empathy
I burn the very bridges
I so long to cross.
Left alone
on this island,
my personal hell,
just
myself and I,
together
for life.
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