A bed unmade inside a cluttered room holds a messy mind

                         & the overtime work of

——————> manufactured defeat

                                               has a finger pointing in its direction.

 Despair.

Shame.

Fear.

Handmade delusions about her own ineptitude leave her too discouraged to even kneel down to pray.

What of it now? 

What is there to do when holographic demons are what’s terrorizing you? 

She does not have it in her to put ^up^ a fight, so she quits

work (1

hygiene (2

and life. (3

Under the covers, & in darkness she’ll stay,

                                                                             |||

                                                                             |||

                                                                             |||

                                                                             V

                                                                              not willing to accept the old adage “come what may.” Because what may come is what immerses that poor girl’s delicate mind into a tremendous dread, perpetuating and birthing those goblins in her head,

& tomorrow feels like such a–

–drag.

Poetry, Writing

Self Defeat

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5 thoughts on “Self Defeat

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