Misery is at my door. It can see me
standing near the glass window, betrayed by the lantern I carry.
It isn’t surreal. Misery is still at my door. It’s trying to
break in my abode and dissolve in me.
My hand
shivers. My lips go dry. My body shudders at the thought of misery trying to break
in; to steal me away from myself.
It wants me badly. Badly enough to hold by my hair and drag me
along the paths that it wishes to take me.
When can I
put the misery to an end? Is it when misery leaves me after it’s desired use or
when I am done with misery that I won’t be anything left anymore?
Misery decides!
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