A Question in The Truth (As I Know It)

  • June 3, 2018, 12:46 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

Did life reject me or did I reject life? The blinding brilliance of the world is a mirror to the squalor that resides within my soul. How much longer can I live this cardboard cutout of a life amidst the backdrop of my personal failings and regrets? Sometimes I rage just to remember I’m alive. Melancholy is permanence, I’m afraid. I reluctantly trudge on while the leaky bucket inside me drips self-hatred and bitterness like corrosive acid from a rusty spigot.

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