A mask of uniformity.

-

I wear the uniform

of uniform morose

melancholy, folly

in thinking things

will change.


I ride the trolley of suffering into it's

garage every night

to wind down and

settle in with my

best friend.

Pain.


I hug tight with no

mention to quit

the tasteful chain

of suspicion.


Suspicion of another 

way.

The thought of some

day, to arise in the morn'.

Without the need

to adorn my mask

of scorn.

My favorite uniform.

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