Ruined! Ruined! He would croon
And sit I would under his Blue Moon
He’d stitch at his identity until noon
And come tomorrow sing a different tune

© Delia Ross. 2019

Essentially, all of our lives we are trying to figure out who we are. We all wear masks, don’t fool yourself. Welcome to ego. Destination: piss poor self-esteem or narcissism. Welcome to the 5th level of hell. It’s really hard to manage your consciousness here or “self”. I hope you brought rum… (and if not, why the fuck is the rum gone!?!)

Published by PoeEternal

I'm gone. Maybe it's like I never existed at all.

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