Tirade of Oblivion

underdarkness's picture

Salvation, my comrade
Is but form in the function of a word,
Which may be,
Or may not be,
Vague and unperceivable.
Raving, it’s explicable.
If you have reason to be unhappy,
It’s understandable.
If you have no reason to be unhappy,
It’s curable.
How we perceive happiness
Greatly affects our own,
Whether medicated or otherwise.
And yet it’s obligatory.
And yet it’s abhorrent.
For negligible things
There is hell, and in it
Perfection.