What’s tragic?

Is I’m alone, alone forever.
Alone without hopes,
Lavished and manic.

No amount of physical pain could overcome the emotional one.
A lifetime of scars carries within the heart.
A burden for everyone
To star and take start.

The scalpel, I don’t care, cut me.
Open and drain me of the collection of pus.
I won’t make noise, flinch or fuss.
I’m hardened, not pompous like a cold rich man’s pardon.
I’m alone, a solo known rose in an empty garden.

These tears raging hot and steamed mean nothing
Like easy money.
They’re just thoughts stuck in unfurnished dreams
Running ugly.



3 thoughts on “Despondent

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