Stoic.

Stoic. 

Ulises Vargas

November 21, 2024. 

Like water, like rain;

Like tears, like pain.

Tragically backhanded, every splendor. 

Magic rescinded, there’s no more laughter. 

Never was, never shall, never will. 

Forever stuck, in my ills. 

Reality is fake, worn, and stretched. 

My life is taken, torn, and wretched. 

So let me eat this cake,

From which I may never wake. 

Poison the lake, with red streaks and paint. 

Hate the world, it will burn. 

Too late for sorries or worries. 

I’ve had the cake, and it’s had me. 

Stoic, I mimic those around me. 

Stoic, I panic within me. 

Frantic, I plan to end it. 

Tragic, I’ve gone ahead with it.