It lays heavy on my crowded cloud of thoughts,
Leaving me with nothing more than a sore back,
And burning heart strings from the lack of energy I have accumulated
Just from thinking of that everything, everywhere.
It's an undesired object,
An unsought of feeling - a pernicious tumor growing from the emotion
That I really don't have anymore.
I doubt that it will retire any time soon,
For I've been shoved from God's right side
And branded with bleeding blisters the word,
'Karma'.
But god does not exist for me anymore.
he won't be there and would rather pay more attention
To the soles of my worn out boots than what's left of this empty capsule I carry
And call Human.
It's horrible what I have done.
What I continue to carry as my outer shell of lies can only be called as -
Miserly.
