Wasteland

I consistently ask myself whether I should fight or flee, the endless torrents of misery that threaten to take over me. In the squalid heat I find it difficult to breathe, as the thickened smog seeps into my lungs, and I slip further down life's ladder's rungs. I dry my eyes and wring my hands, sorrow has wreaked havoc on my once Utopian land. The trees no longer bear fruit, they are as barren as my empty womb. Flowers no longer blossom, instead they wither and wilt, giving up and giving in to the emptiness they feel within. Darkened are my skies, as the sun hides and refuses to rise for a world forsaken by its own, left to feel the wrath of reckless abandonment all alone. The undertones of guilt wash ashore and tease dry earth with water, though that is all that it is yearning for. Greys and monochromes poison the air filling it with cyanide, as the promises of prosperity succumb to the venom of it all and die. Acid rain pours from the clouds, as my thoughts have become so loud. They refuse to let me sleep, as I surrender to the pain and weep. Life is no easy street, it will cheat, deceive and then excrete, you from its throes similar to being naked and exposed. I am much weaker than presumed, as I smell death's sweet perfume, it is lacquered to my walls, and fills my dreary prison's halls, slips into my veins and takes me by the reins. Lecherous as it may be, I am captivated hopelessly. I have lost my appetite hoping that in the night I will see the light, find my gateway out of this place as I fall upwards from grace. The world has become such an abomination, a huge discredit to the beauty it once possessed. I lace my boots and I get dressed, as I prepare myself for my soul's eternal damnation.