I was killing time inside a bookstore
waiting for the Nepalese restaurant
across the street to open up again
starving, the hyperbole of a bore
killing himself slowly for many years
if long distance running is but a jaunt
literally, down the road without the yen
lifting me up, a butterfly in flight
injury added to insult, the tears
needlessly fall as a necessity
grit, determination, perseverance
trauma and distress melt out of pity
insults from childhood bounce as if I dance
morbid with sorrow for decades, the bright
-
enlightenment in my twenties switched on
initiate instruction to recall
near amnesia by others of harm done
slide down the chute, recovery to spawn
integrity tactics to overcome
depression as a clinical downfall
enigmatic and eccentric, how fun
artistically autistic, I was dumb
burdened by my punishment to behave
over two decades, the torture game set
obliged never to complain of the past
killing time enables me to forget
search my conscience to forgive, shadows cast
triumphantly moving over my grave
objections aside my death cannot last
resolve quarrels with squirrels and press save
ephemeral the clouds always move so fast
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