Cursed
In fear of not hurting anyone,
I suffer the most in my life.
All those who have come, have gone on their time;
and here I'm and my poetry trying to survive.
After all the day's desires and dilemmas when I find mine,
I hear a sob asking, "is that all you deserve?"
a dysphoric counters me each time.
Like a speechless victim of trauma, I try to find the answer on the wall
gazing for a long long time.
that even eternity forgets to be immortal
and I forget to feel sublime.
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