There he goes again
That mad, megalomaniacal monarch
Severing heads and hanging heathens
With on look we could condemn ourselves
One word out of place is treason
And often he executes without reason
He sits on his throne
A sumptuous fest spread out before him
He watches as the executioner does his work
He slurps and slavers as he anticipates
Future killings and bestial blood lettings
While all around him subjects shudder
‘Your Majesty, it was not me’.
They cry. But it is rather like addressing
The indifferent sky. With a gloved hand
He waves them away. He had never had
So much fun. Power makes him high
Power makes him fly…
And his reign has only just begun
Warning: Tediously self pitying content ahead
I wrote this on Boxing Day:
(Fun Fact: Boxing Day was traditionally a day off for servants and the day when they received a ‘Christmas Box’ from the master. The servants would also go home on Boxing Day to give ‘Christmas Boxes’ to their families.)
I have given myself five years. I am severely mentally ill, unemployable and thus, economically unproductive. I am a useless eater. I am also childless and possible barren. I have no life and I am terrified of the future. Life is brutal and I am not equal to its challenges. (Note: I see this as my failure not the failure of life itself.) The one and only human being who loved me for myself had departed from the planet. I have decided that if I do not get a job, have a child and a meaningful relationship in the next half decade I will erase myself from this world.
If I were a mangy cat I would have been put to sleep long ago.
The original can be found here.
So Sick of Drowning 