Morosely drinking red wine,
Wishing I could unwind
The cold dead hands of time.
They clutch my heart
In their firm grasp
I gasp
Pain shoots through my psyche
I got out, I know I'm lucky
But it hurts so goddamn much
I'm losing my grip on reality, I'm out of touch
You compliment me, I blush
I've been taught I'm a burden
And my efforts at creation
Are futile and wasted.
I'm hated and wasted.
...
Please don't worry, I'll be fine,
(I always am, in the end)
I'm merely, morosely, drinking red wine.