Days when I sit, feeling like I've lifted the boulder that pushed me down
Are forced down by the storm that brews within me.
The storm itself something that yearns for a result that will never last
The days i ravage my storage for the sustenance a body requires
Are the times I question my dignity.
Is humanity so hopeless? we’ve stooped to the gates of hades?
Eve's own greed has landed me in this state of depressing lust.
When will I ever overcome the devil that resides within the walls of red velvet and sickly saccharine chocolate?
Be it next fortnight or next nightfall.
I do not want to face the luteal lucifer even in the depths of my agonising detrimental state.