Irony

On the Fringe by Nell Whatmore

While opportunities resurface, I wallow in a sense of interminable loss.

When will the pain really end? I grasp for that glimmer of profundity but it escapes into an all encompassing chasm of emptiness and sorrow. Was I really better off without the stake lodged deep in my heart? Was my blood not poisoned before it all? The memory of the present that is gone is too fresh for the past to show itself.
Irony.

I fight against the hypocrisy I have endowed myself with. Someday I will emerge a winner. But I guess I need to take a beating before I do.
Poetic justice.
No gain without pain.

I isolate myself in company. I seek company in isolation.
I dream in wakefulness. I cannot sleep.
The self defeatist me fights so hard to win the loss.
Hope hurts. Giving up brings peace.

When will it all end so I can truly begin?
Irony.

A twisted proposition cannot have a straight answer.
Delirium feels good. Delirium makes sense while it lasts. Delirium does not last.
Wake up. For God's sake wake up before it's too late!