Dishonest Misery
An evil poem
Sitting in the light, dressed in sorrow. I don’t know how to move in this despondency.
I am not ready to undress into a resuming state. It is out of my consideration to remove my hands from my face. I cannot show this arduous ache.
Screaming your name in a kindred weep. As this solicit gravestone is put in place.
Am I allowed to give up the act? Can I finally be myself?
I am done maintaining this despondency. I finally end this resistance and crack a smile.
