Beyond some pain and distress
Lies a world of unending sorrow
So profound,
So inlaid, it comes with music.
One never gets accustomed
Instead it becomes your ordinarity,
Your own,embedded, singularity.
No matter the size, independent of shape
And not to be confounded with any kind of fate,
Never seen in a venetian mirror,
Never found in psychotherapy profile,
Only dark, sad, many times vile.
A twisted multitude of wicked dimensions.
A conjured palimpsest of frustrated ascensions.
Evil fallen into the inner child, unprotected and ludicrous.