My life is a ripe grape gone sour.
Pain, malaise, bitterness, envy.
Conditions of the damned.
Sent to Hell before my time,
I am bitter, hardened, seasoned.
Nearly alone in the struggle,
the fight to be understood, loved,
cured of my damnation.
“Help me” I say,
sometimes loud, raging with
desperation,
sometimes soft as a powdery whisper.
Can anyone help? Or is it too late?
Condemned to go on ad infinitum,
I heartily despair.
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