These are empty days,
Free of association.
'What have you been doing?'
'Writing' - end of conversation.
Sometimes I peruse the media,
Telling me I'm the anti-good,
Deserving only blame,
And my faith is falsehood.
Why are the virtuous
So keen to keep me alive
When they hate me so much?
Is it because at end of life I'll thrive?
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