Not even a dead muse could do more (Things hurt, mentally and physically)

Eye sight is getting short

mindfully disaster circles around

Won't take you over the ledge

but keeps you on a razor's edge

Mind is as sparse as a bot

Ink stains for me to walk abound

prayers being said

just leaves me further in debt

The more I try

the easier it is to flutter away

no point in crying

it's all happened before

When I die

Will I have my way

drift in and infinite limbo

or greet a god with smile

You vengeful, angry Pig

With Your infinite grace and claims of free will

You put your flock in the slaughter house

Farmed for meat and accessories.

You sicken me,

Oh Jehovah forgive me and go forget about yourself.

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Crushed spirit and a crucible at my feet

An A-Sexual who is glad he never meets

Born broken by genetics, rhetorical in repetition.

Born again from christian faith, finding it's never to late.

I would love to live a life in a body not broken and bruised

Putting someone in my shoes I would never do

They days you see the glint fade from your eye

It might be the right day to Die

To forget the wrongs

Corporeal incense burning

Knowing this is your last parse

Everything else you knew passed.

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Epilogue

Even though I write about death and suicide

You and I are worth more than that

Don't judge yourself, never let anyone else

Be the master of your reality, find your peace, hopefully I wish, without violence.

Love, Apathy. You are never alone ~ Karl