Feelings Without Names

Desolation

I break myself down, a pit of misery in which I wallow and decay.

And of the monster I've become, how desperate and savage,

So much so that I ravage all, so in waste it lay.

Must I be so insane, so positively cruel and queer?

And what of what I created? The masterpieces? The art?

It lays strewn apart, in a realm of doubt and fear.