Loathe

Clocks pelt forward, I remain stagnant in this chair, no sound, no sentiment
My colorless eyes locked to the mirror reflecting the atrocity before it
Every last emotion conjured into a silent, motionless, and cold stare
The Sun rises and the Sun falls
Outer spirits howl with me in the fires below
Still I look into the glass as suicide flows through my blood viscously churning
I begin to shake
Erase the sickness from the earth
I am undeserving, I am misfortune
I am undeserving, I am misfortune
The curser and the unwilling never to change what I’ve done
And I suffer the consequence eternally