Papa lang

I’m suffocating in contentedness; drowning in lukewarm water.
I thank You for my blessings, but Lord, take them away.
I’ve become the shallow fool, twirling around blind, with my hair in my eyes.
Oh this curse, Happiness, which ebbs away my beautiful, broken past.
I’ve developed hypothermia, and I’m falling asleep in my cozy ice coffin.
My lazy, degenerated muscles barely support me.
A concentrated desire oozes from my selfishness, begging.
Pleading, “hurt me, so I have the right to cling to someone.”
Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. You don’t know me.

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