On Line

I feel the need to wallow now and then,
to plumb the depths of misery and pain,
to show myself the sorriest of men,
convince myself that pleasure is insane.
But wallowing alone is no great shakes
for what's the point if no-one sympathises
or looks with awe upon the grave mistakes
and foolishnesses that my life comprises?
Ergo, I go on line to spread my gloom
around the world for everyone to see
and emulate within my lonely room
the epicenter of life's agony,
where, humourless as Brutus, it's a ball
to play the most unkindest c__t of all.

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