Schadenfreude is a bitch
as well we both know.
We make lists and compare
and the flowers continue to grow.

Under the stairs
is a fighting black bear
and the ground swallows me up
as I lay, laissez faire.

Paper cuts run deeper
than this bloodied, brown page
and the fire inside me
is as rich as it is sage

A remembered, cold shiver
alone in the dark.
A dream of a life;
the wet match doth spark!

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