quick 12

[Just Write]

I view what most people call “Life” as a game
or more like a picture set inside of a frame.
frozen in time, cracked and broken inside
hoping to die, where no destiny’s change.
I picture my life at an inevitable phase
of failures I hide in my collection of shame.
I face hell every day, no heaven to turn to
no presence of virtue, just continuous pain
no significant gains, just the debt I’ve accrued
and death can't resolve all these afflictions obtained
in a pitiful place, but I’m not looking for sympathy
I just write to release all these consistent iniquities