divine despair

i struggle
most of my days
feeling as if
i am a pox
unworthy of
the love i have
craved since
it was denied
from a very
young age
trying my best
in a bipolar
reverberation
yet failing
in expressing
my feelings
in a way that
shows just how
deeply each
emotion shines
coming off as
an empty vessel
that pushes my
loved ones away

i don’t need
all that much
my life is a
testament to
hardly getting by
the bare minimum
is a plethora
in a world full
of sifting scraps
as i sit alone
thankful for
what i do have
afraid i will
ruin that with
my poison touch
anxious as i
over think
my every move
my every word
my every thought

i struggle
most of my days
holding too tight
to a world that
recoils from
my very presence
unworthy of
the things i wish
for every night
just the little
boy sitting outside
in the snow
waiting for his dad
knowing he is not
coming home again
lost and alone
scribbling words
no one wants to read
an atheist praying
to be proven wrong
an absurdist who
cannot tell if
he wants coffee
or a silken coffin
six feet beneath
the people he loves

the world is
hard enough without
knowing you are
batshit insane
the madness only
makes you doubt
anything is real
surrounded by
manufactured sorrows
in an echo chamber
of divine despair

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