We trudge through sludge
Each step we burn
We ache and break
We’ve yet to learn

We climb through grime
Each inch is wrath
We fall and crawl
We flinch and crash

We slink through ink
Each sound for naught
We mourn and scorn
We drown and rot

We crawl through all
Each dream we starve
We try to fly
With wings we carve


About A. P. Christopher

I'm a cynic, a nihilist, and a pessimist. I'm a hermit filling the interior walls of my empty cavern with the words and pictures of a mind adrift in disparity. I also like lifting weights.
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