Photo by Pixaby
I wish to be released from the things I can't undo / a tarnish to the life of others / that I cannot know / to address the hurt it caused / to have caused a measure of ugly / adding to that ground of refuse / the foliage of foul misbehavior that rampantly insist on aerating the soil that we must walk and test to further challenge the living given to us / its growth / not always away from the foulness / and most definitely never releasing the decay / retaining a skeleton of its vine, its leaf as a scavenger would horde such scrap to build its home against the elements its instinct can predict. Why cannot such things move us with the same curiosity away from trespass / the shames of the world that are not mine / yet I live its grief / my own hate amplified by the things I know exist / making existence difficult / unbearable / as rank flesh is harsh to breathe / unable to taste the delights of air / the simple weightless task of breathing without thinking. Because only in death I may find forgiveness / only in the total dankness void of suffering will the requirement to live ease what is not forgotten. Doth forgiveness taken on a different form and ridding me of the world's distaste.