A cold outside,
This dark time.
Cruel living,
Resides to the East.
The nightmare,
That bubble you live in,
Those lies you feed yourself,
Lives off of you in,
Disordering ways.
I have lied to myself far beyond,
My own torment has brought me.
Every second we tie are Will down,
We find ourselves flourishing,
The dark depths of devastation.
This is not a a disorder,
This is a choice.
The paths I can rejoice,
Or the paths I can deal with.
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Submission Name: Pseudo-Disfunction
