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The Human Condition

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The Human Condition

The air is being sucked out of my lungs

My head is bombarded by a thousand shards of 

There is no refuge to rest my weary bones

The angst of my supposedly beloved is fuelling my 

In my mind my only rest exist underneath the 

I have become Hamlet in this tragic tale

Goodness is just an illusion, a hallmark apparition

Selflessness is really selfishness; people own wants 
and needs are paramount in their hearts

Right gives way to base desire, a veracious 
appetite forever lusting for more

Hope is like a distant star visible but impossible to 

has our morality has been reduced to resemble a 
virus, devouring everything in its path

Is this condition the permanent face of humanity?

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