I do not know why
I have served an adversary
for so long.
A valiant effort for a
wrong cause can return
to you as a cold room
with prison food, stale
sheets, burrowing days and
restless, insomniac nights.
Guilt weighs a heart in
cement while the prospective
mind tries to breathe.
Of these breaths are:
and perhaps further failure.
But this life, this person,
isn’t worth it.
I should have listened
to my heart in its deep
denial of my November’s
deceptive decisions.
Do not be patient for
misery. Be patient for what
you know you deserve.
This is the fruit every
single heart yearns for,
one we are willing to pay
any price for,
a fruit, a G-D-given
fruit and promise we
can always rejoice for,
from those wanderlust
summer walks to this
December’s gelid jail.

My mind is the enemy, and I know him completely.


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