It was the day when everything went wrong suddenly
I found myself hanging,
upside down on the pinnacle of earth,
looking down vertically
on my horizontal life.
Flesh bag, protein molds
plain plain plain.
What's to be loved of?
What's to be cared?
I shall hang myself on the wall leaving
the note:
"I'm sorry but I DID try to love you"
What is the meaning of existence when
you are a mere molecule where
everyone's the same (even better?)
--
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