Not Yet Better, Not Much Worse

It still hurts across the room
Why have the Fates cursed my loom?
The thread they weave into my life
Is causing an incessant strife
My heart hurts, my head denies
The whispers it hears and the endless sighs
So I sit here, day after day
Waiting to figure out a way
A way out of this world, this life, this time
People making others feel this way should be a crime
But alas, I'm stuck, dealing with what I must
Until the end, when I'll be buried, my bones collecting dust.

The End

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