I know that chocking feeling of redundancy
Like your calamities were always inevitable,
Life its self simply shunned your existence
Reduced you to nothing, but squalor
As the world wipes its feet
On what used to be you face.
I know how it feels to be trapped
In an endless cyclone called stress
Where worries and joys swap lanes
And you left drowning in your pool of blood
Because mother earth left one miss call for you:
“Didn’t you hear, I do not care”.