Shalyn Stachmus


The Misery Atlas

As I mold into the miscreant of myself,
I frame self-portraits in my esoteric hell.
Seems no one seems to care, but oh well.

As I turn into a torpid, tepid pool,
I choke my mind with Oblivion, so cruel.
Seems no one seems to care, that's the rule.

It's okay. It happens. All the time, every day.

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