The Fool

It is the worst kind of suffering
Death would be mercy from its wrath

But it consumes, swallows and indulges in your pain
Yet is seeks nothing, for you have already given it your soul

It does not ever leave its victim
And the only absolution is death

But when you
It lives

Inflicting pain on those at your funeral

It laughs and laughs, for it is only seen as good

While the young know not its torture
And the wise drink to survive

I live here as
The fool

Who knew not
That love is cruel

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