The stench of my hand
Warns me of something, but
My brain is powered by obliviousness.
Knowing is just not my card today.
The interruption in my journey
Causes my nose to wrinkle in disgust
Pain would be more fun than this.
Anger splitting my hour into must-dos and want-nots
I can’t for the life of me
I long to do
Ease the pain
The ever-lasting pain
Until it is no more
Whenever that will be.
At times, when the cloud has gone
A trail of color circles me like a loving dog
Under the cloud, the pain circles me.
The stench of my hand reminds me
Of my chosen life
What do I do it for?
Why did I choose this?
Bewildered and confused
I carry on.