the root of all evil

do something, nothing, much at all
what does it mean we fall
from grace
because I fear
to fail
to slip
to trip
and then again
and then once more
simply by opening a door
I do not wish to exist
but it’s always there
it has been since
civilization’s dawn
and maybe even before
who knows
and who cares
it’s there
and it will
always loom
I wish I’m strong enough
all the time
except
when I’m not
it tears me apart
great, great, great!
but then what?

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