I, Existential Masochist

I, weariness

Comatose by the ticking of the clock,

The work day never ends:

Rest is a tantalised euphemism.

I, compassion

With all my good intentions and passions,

I hold the pale blue dot in my hands,

Yet the field of vision never changes.

I, empathy

My reach and focus are ubiquitous

The pain is an introspective two-way mirror,

Yet the true reflection remains unseen.

I, apathy

Juxtapose and ridicule empathy

These problems are not your own:

Leave it alone - let it be

I, false hope

Add more water to the well,

A temporary fix is all that is needed:

We’ve done what we can - rest your head.

I, power

Jingle the keys to the door of resolution,

Behind which is the solution,

Even though the door is forever out of reach.

I, ideal world

Am a projection of how things easily could be,

A world in which humans lived optimally:

With all the resources, the peace, the love, and the life

I, Earth

Cannot entertain the thought of the ideal,

Life comes and goes - I do not turn an eye:

But rarely have I seen it celebrate its own downfall

I, existential perversion,

Hold the power but I am obstructed by what I fear most:

The monster that lurks deep within the subconscious,

The encouragement of the unspeakable

I, human

I can change it all but I refuse:

The destination is unadmittedly alluring,

I welcome the tomb with open arms

I, existential masochist

Could never put out the fire: it gives me sick pleasure,

Even if that fire consumes it all:

I am human.