All I know is a terrible mood.
A terrible fire
Rampaging in my core
And it pains me.
But it won’t cease—
It proceeds to grow, to eat,
As any little thing gets grilled
In the flames;
Scorching my ribcage and
Troubling my sleeplessness.
Plain terrible sleep
Due to plain terrible mood.
But the week is almost over
And I hope there are pieces left.
I need to dig for them.