My Curse

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You ask why I write.

So that I feel what was lost,

feel the pain once mine.

 

I feel nothing now,

no pain happiness nothing.

I feel not a thing

 

Why am I like this?

Because I sought to be this,

to be rational.

 

I sought out this state,

my endless curse is my own.

I wished this on myself.

 

Why search out this life?

Why throw away all feelings?

So that I might live.

 

The pain had grown great.

It was always present then,

night and day, it stayed.

 

I was at a loss.

I became more desperate,

to be free of pain.

 

Pain that would not cease.

Just to be free of it all,

I would give up all.

 

And then all was lost,

the pain was gone, I was free.

I was overjoyed...

 

or I should have been.

The pain didn't leave alone,

all I had was lost.

 

Pain is part of life.

Without pain there is no life,

it ceases to be.

 

I lost my life then.

I could not even regret,

for regret was lost.

 

It escaped notice.

It took a couple of days,

but then it hit me.

 

What greatness was loss.

Despair would have taken me,

but that had gone to.

 

You ask why I write.

To know what was lost to me,

why I can't feel you.

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