Swarm the Pessimist
Walking a path of isolation
Acceptance triggers nausea
Tread in one’s own secular world
Feculence means nothing
The hand of disease slithers into judgment
Marred thoughts, from an outside entity
An internal feeling of being born in the wrong time
Looking into the face of what is in disgust
A possession of conscience to stray off the paved passage
An exhibition of overwhelming negativity
Constructive viewpoints strangled by a serpent like tongue
Spinning images of misery puncture the shield
A haze of grim overshadows normalcy
Daily treasures struck by a private gloom
