I try as hard as I can, 

to fight this battle,

but sometimes I just can’t win, 

and the ennui enshrouds me,

in its dark miasma.

I have retreated, I ran, 

away from the sickening prattle, 

that told me that I sin, 

but still I can’t see, 

what comes at the end. 

I follow a dark road, 

shivering as it draws closer.

I don’t want it to come again.

I’m not ready, 

It’s not right. 

Why can’t I just fight?