A cul de sac six feet away,
Beckons,
Illustrating an end
Earlier than thought to be.
Reminiscent,
I see countless eons of servility,
By a myrmidon;
Me.
A stupid myrmidon with blind faith
In the hopeless;
You.
But soon to be exonerated
I am learning to drown deeper,
Everyday,
In my cacophonous calm;
Only to indulge myself.
As I wait for the reaper,
Impatiently,
To rid me of your indifference,
And life’s rancid discord.
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