Sticks
The cats won't behave,
My body is betraying me with age,
I'm losing hope in evolving
Into a Sigma
The closest I can get is a Christ-less
affliction of a Stigmata.
I can't make my will move
Out of its sedentary position
My human-ness is failing me,
My fight or flight has vaporized,
My dread grows and manifests
An unwanted reality,
My luck laughs,
And taunts me so torturously.
The hours you have been gone
Will just be explained away
And when you come back
I will continue to throw
All my chances away.
8
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