It feels heavy and disagreeable,
like a sodden wet towel lying carelessly on the floor.
There is an underlying murkiness about the situation.
Moldy, like the proverbial “stab in the back” cliche,
my right scapula stings from the brevity of the unfair.
My expectations disappointingly await fruition, and it is maddening.
I wonder, “why bother?” to be good or do the right thing.
My buddhist belief spells “doormat” rather than enlightenment.
(Although I know this melancholy will pass.)