Hope. Less (revised)

Why is man's greatest gift life's most painful curse?

Why do I tell myself all is bad when all could be worse?

Why is being worse than ever a comforting form of loss?

It's because the pain of shame numbs when pushed deeper toward that loss.

Perfect marks the centre, controlled and aligned.

The circumference marks liberosis, death and hope intertwined.

That circle being my mental,

and outside being the edge.

The edge I long for,

its meaning is less dread.

I imagine falling off,

having no reason to fight.

In that moment dread slips away,

for there is less shame when you cannot imagine flight.

To romanticise this state is how I've spent most nights.

Though I have dreamed of flight,

this brings meaningless to life.

No matter how I've numbed my brain, my heart chooses to fight.

This causes conflict.

I fear it will until one last time,

I look into that fateful light.

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