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.