Bête Noir

Tristan Robert Lange

Melancholy mixed with misanthropy,
A lethal combination downed
Like opiates and alcohol;
I convulse violently inside.

The sadness numbs my senses,
Causing me to ignore the blows
That are injurious to me,
Like the striking of a viper.

Comparisons to another,
Do you not know me,
Do you think I am that?
The day's bitter end awaits.

The apathy spreads rampant,
Masking the animus I contain,
Hiding the bête noir from me,
Until all I see is my own reflection.

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