Spectations

A study, of words, in crimson, sometimes blue, rarely yellow.

Contempt

Basically, every time I look around me there’s someone standing there who wants to be seen, who wants to be heard, who wants the world to know they exist.

Every time I step out of my shell of self-obsession, I witness someone coming out of their shell of self-loathing.

Every time I think about becoming a better person, I see someone striving just to survive.

& every time I learn a lesson; I’m better fed, I’m better clothed, I’m better off.

But that doesn’t humble me, it only makes me more contempt.

Is this the human condition? Or is it just me?

 

Every time I look around, the questions make me look away.

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