If only I could forget myself

It’s too late at night,

And I’ve found myself,

Lost again,

Distracted by a lack of direction,

Abundance of stimuli and,

Absence of motivation.

As soon as the quietude descends,

My mind wanders to places my legs couldn’t,

Even though they wouldn’t:

The land of the wishfully forgotten yesterday.

Anxiety has bored deep in me,

Paralyzing my memories,

Locking them in a perpetual loop,

Forcing me to remember,

(Truly a psychotic concept)

The self who brought me here,

With the curse of hindsight,

Serving as a criterion of our singular judging panel.

When I was that self,

Was I really  that  selfish?

Could I have been so base as to,

As history has recorded,

Forsake you all for the sake,

Of maintaining the mentality,

Adopted from the Ice Queen herself,

Coined the Virtue of Selfishness?

Even cursory observations have to point to,

Yes,

I was,

And am stuck,

In the world of my making.

God,

I wish you could deliver,

Salvation as promised;

Wash away these sins of mine,

Leaving in my place,

The man Raskolnikov so feared,

Until he remembered himself.

 

 

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