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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Writing · #1687623
Confusion. (a work in progress)
What do you say to the enigmatic man of  confusion? Should I place my unsteady finger on the trigger of uncertainty? Breathe in the polluted air and hope for the best?  "Not all things are certain my friend, make a plan and see it come to fruiton" says the enigmatic man. I have continued to live a lie (which is not really living at all). Getting out of bed and getting into my fake corporate paraphernalia so I can enter my daily self-destruction. With every clump of hair that stress has graciously released from my head or the tears of exhaustion that rain from my eyes, I will only succumb to an early grave. "What is my purpose" I say to the enigmatic man. He looks at me with a court jester expression that includes a shit eating grin " See, your asking an enigmatic man a question that he cannot answer. Your asking all the right questions but directed to the wrong person. Look within yourself for you are the only one that can answer that". Now without the lack of an immediate resolution from this man I feel my brain start to atrophy. Losing touch with the once known region of my mind all thoughts of hope have now entered the recycle bin and have been deleted. Jesus Christ could life really be this difficult?

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