Wherein does misery lie in wait?

 For a poor soul like mine?

Inside a troll, or a hole inside

the heart of another?

Someone whom struggles, with the

comfortability of pain?


Wherein does misery lie in wait?

Everywhere, we cannot escape.

It blows in through the window

Just behind the winter's cold

wind draft.

It is to be determined, wherein

misery has made it's absence.


Never have I found that, mythical place.

Yet I spend all of my time

and most of my life

Wandering and looking.


Wherein does misery lie in wait?

Is it my hellish fate, to be followed

all of my days?

By that damned spectre of sorrow.

behind every door, awaiting tomorrow?

Will he ever sate, his need to steal

my fleeting happiness?

To replace it with bleeding sappiness

for hatred, and not for love

of which everyone is so familiar.


Why must my date with death be

so far belated?

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