The Things We Fuck Up

The Things we fuck up,
and why do we do them?
Out of what Great Fear
do we set ourselves out for ruin?

What began as self-undoing
became complete destruction.
Hell bent to destroy
our deliberate constructions.

Does the grief wrought to ourselves
stand as a measure to our worthiness?
Or stand countenance to the sturdiness
of the common bonds we all seek?

Why do we tear away at the things we hate?
Wouldn't it be far saner to relate to
all those fears bore down by others,
as reflective to our inner state?

The Love we feel is missing,
is only the love we refuse to make.
And before we beg a spirit 'Listen!'
One must truly know what they're about to say.

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