Today I’ve embraced the official prompt of using an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.
For three fortnights I’ve pondered
as the diorama spun-
splintering inside my fractured mind.
“I’m aware it’s a game,”
“I’m aware that it’s a no.”
I’m aware I was tripping balls
but it’s an opportunity to grow.
In that realm context brought pain,
sautéed synapses soaked in regret.
Why does everything have to relate to everything
when you’re finding it hard to relate to anything?
Yet I stood tall, I owned the wrong I did to others.
I refused to partake in cruelty even in a realm defined by it.
But now, I must right the wrongs in how I’ve treated myself.
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