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4.19.98 Woe is me. I walk the sullen, dark city streets of my soul from my nest at the end of the couch, a perch I rarely leave. Just above me, a personal storm cloud perpetually rains drear and gloom (my cloud). There is no escaping the ongoing baptism of depression (never leave me, cloud). Every morning I wake with sadness in my heart and weight on my shoulders (self-made cloud). I have known love, but only to have it lead to emptiness and scorn (I love me, cloud). Mirrors reflect an imperfect human: loveless, lifeless, fat, skinny, drunk, misunderstood (imaginary cloud). I am an innocent, suffering for the sins of others (scapegoat cloud). When I stand, I stand alone against the world (shelter cloud). No others know problems like I do (kidding myself with cloud). Suicide seems like the only cure to what ails me (give me pity or give me death!). You'll miss poor me (stop ignoring pretentious me). |