Comatose

It is quite incoherent.

This desire to make order out of a persistent mess. 

This divine purpose to learn the lesson, is an endless cycle of failure. 

I let it go, and it gets worse. 

I work it in different angles determined to find a way to right this. 

If I’m humble enough and work hard, I’ll fix the problem I didn’t create. 

The answers and sanity slip away from me with the constant stress. 

I guess it’s a family trait to be a fucking mess of insanity. 

I thought if I was careful… but I had no choice in it all along. 

Order doesn’t keep the disease at bay.

Breaking the cycle didn’t stop it from repeating.

Day in. 

Day out.

A waking coma. 

I’m just here as a filler, in a role I didn’t audition for.

The taste of undeserved failure is as putrid as stomach acid. 

In the morning, I’ll take a deep breath and tell myself yet again, that being present is all it takes to succeed. 

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