The nihilist in me lies in wait
To change me and insist my fate.
Dreaded cynic who sits fat.
Lugubrious slob who looks down
On my efforts to rise and sneers at
Each solution that could be.

Some driven dark side of me that,
Seeing some shining sun decides
That shadow is the better way,
That actually the other view
Is the one that’s true and could lead me through.

Thus each small sight that comes my way
Is blind and dead before it lives.
I stand and watch as each spark dies.
Small chance that if allowed to grow,
Might have led to a life more lived.

This I don’t understand.
The contrary ambitions
Of my two halves
That fight and need
Each others demise.
I can only ever be half alive.


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