i have become cold

my limits were pressed

first, lightly,

as flowers between the pages of an old book

then forcefully, as it shuts

there is no entirely benevolent being:

god, must know, suffering.

he placed us here, knowing

that our capacity for feeling was not

as it should be

there is no plan, destiny, reason

just another layer of purgatory

just hearts that crush too easily

just monsters that look, and sound, like men