The eerie irritability
Of this disgustingly demeaning state
I find my myself in,
The essence of my existence,
Every bit of what creates me,
Grosses me to my very core
It's a phase, a recurring feeling.
Only once in a while,
this once in a blue moon sorta thing
Makes simply existing a chore.
The minor failures,
Become large enough to make me forget,
All other achievements I worked for.
This face turns quite simply, ****
As my pride and self respect slowly rots
I turn into a hallowed figure, crawling
Wanting help; support,
Clinging to the first thing I find.
Worst of all,
I know it only last a few days
And when it's gone,
I'm empty again.
Is it my need for approval,
My weak character,
Can I not stand on my own.
What has all this come to?
Oh look, it's that point in my life. Again