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I’m sick

It’s just the way that I feel

And I can’t keep it all inside

So bleak

For I tend to nihilism

But I succumb to reason in time

Once again I feel the need to point the index

Forgive my lack of perfection

And any inconvenience

I’m playing god in a realm of verse and line

And I flood it with my mind

Pitch black

Curse and malady for the evil I design

Because these words carry my mind

Pitch black

Pitch black

I trust

Only what I think is right

This reveals my imperfection

I know

You might not deserve

To be buried in this reflection

Once again I fail to maintain objectivity

Forgive my lack of perfection

And my creeping legacy