I've become like icebergs,
watching myself fall apart
melted by the radiance of my grief,
disintegrated by an interrupting Weltschmerz.
It has become routine:
gluing fragments of myself
with the hope of a great union.
I've grown vulnerable to voices.
I hear myself inside my skull.
I feel a funeral in my brain.
The kid in me is dead.
I killed him
with my own rationalization,
with my greed
the kid in me is dead,
and I killed him.
No wonder
I wish
I wish I had never been born at all.
Tuesday - October 20, 2026
1405/07/28
01 : 09 : 06 AM
