Failing to Cease

Round and round, which way will the pain land, nobody knows. The spirals of aggravations and discrepancies whirl in the mind of this tortured soul, on and on through the neverending vortex of hate. No one can love him because he is riddled with disfigurement, and the world despises the ugly. Taking time to understand is troublesome and annoying, and the more he progresses on his own, the more they can’t stand his presence. He walks alone today, successful as a self-propelling machine that can take care of himself, but nobody wants to spend time with him, no one wants to be his friend. Like the soft droplets of rain that fall on a Sunday afternoon, the myriad of pain dribbles down the surface of his skin, traveling down and through the creased convolutions where the thoughts of his lost life and family dug, leaving behind the deepest scars.

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