| Written: AUG 21, 2003 |
What can you expect from life,
when your very self seems bent on foiling you.
Why must every circumstance on earth work
against me just to screw me over?
Nothing I do can ever amount to anything
more than the next big kick in my teeth.
A miracle I continue to go on,
causing myself more pain and heartache at every turn.
The orbed waters rise in response,
but I now lack the will to shed them.
I sit, having a me day;
just trying to collect myself.
Like the pugilist in the corner,
readying himself for more punishment.
Why try? Why even bother to be me,
when I am so damn self destructive.
