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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