No Gentle Art
Why won’t you make me happy? In their hearts, they have fear. There are those who are lost; does that mean I’ve given up again? To kill with silent contempt. Stop giving me hope like you need it to live - with overwhelming persistence: my angels graceless; useless. Just leave the stains where they are, for the love of god. Please be quiet and leave me. Tell me again about my miracle. Stop giving me hope. Oh, what a gift: I’ve met my maker, she serves oblivion with a cynical smirk. Life of bitter things, yet it’s appropriate. No thought novel; the joke is cruel - each attempting to record what it is to be human. Stop giving me hope.
Writer/s: Jesse Matthewson
