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.
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