Why can’t you just be happy?
You could fall to domestica,
have love and the small things.
‘Twould be a dream realized.
Instead, the fires lit in you
destroy, destruct and damage you.
Living is a simple joy,
but life is Hell, a curse, a void.
Sleeping comes so peacefully
but living - you will cease to be.
I write to say, regretfully,
in living - you have ceased to me.