Lost

Why does frustration corrupt?

Rot the hope,

Gag the tears,

like smog intent to fade everything,

a miasma of blinding light.

It's hard enough

to walk through a mirage of doubt,

enslave my clouded mind.

Body abused by an empty stomach

It's hard enough to believe.

But to battle demons of little consequence,

Emotions of vermin-worth,

I am a wasp in an angry bee-hive

alive only for my lack of presence,

stuck in uncertainty, alive on faith.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2022. Day 18.