My Curse


You ask why I write.

So that I feel what was lost,

feel the pain once mine.


I feel nothing now,

no pain happiness nothing.

I feel not a thing


Why am I like this?

Because I sought to be this,

to be rational.


I sought out this state,

my endless curse is my own.

I wished this on myself.


Why search out this life?

Why throw away all feelings?

So that I might live.


The pain had grown great.

It was always present then,

night and day, it stayed.


I was at a loss.

I became more desperate,

to be free of pain.


Pain that would not cease.

Just to be free of it all,

I would give up all.


And then all was lost,

the pain was gone, I was free.

I was overjoyed...


or I should have been.

The pain didn't leave alone,

all I had was lost.


Pain is part of life.

Without pain there is no life,

it ceases to be.


I lost my life then.

I could not even regret,

for regret was lost.


It escaped notice.

It took a couple of days,

but then it hit me.


What greatness was loss.

Despair would have taken me,

but that had gone to.


You ask why I write.

To know what was lost to me,

why I can't feel you.


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