Watashi
I am twenty years of broken dreams bundled up in curiosity. I am too many feet deep in self pity, And no amount of kicking helps me breathe. I am too poor in grief, So, my latest muse is the worst of what I feel. Some days, I want to weed myself out, Crawl to the precipice and see if someone holds my feet. I search for the flaws that don't exist, And the pain that I am entitled to, So that this melancholia makes sense. I try, on loop, to unravel the curiosity of my being so, Only to end up vexed and forlorn. I envision slaying contentment, And then seeking it again. I am quintessentially sceptic and dissatisfied, And that's how I go through.