"das Uber-ich"

“Why cant I be happy” he said, to himself. Yet in the clouds day after day, angry faces. Buried in the depths the feelings trickle out, Like a babbling brook that gathers pace. Infected near the source, poisoning; ignorant. Ignorant of the effect, not wanting to know Not caring. A mind akin to a deep fleshy wound On the cusp of sealing but jarred and wrenched til it comes apart Again and again, day by day until apart is the norm He must walk with the gash always fresh He must walk. a personality Brutalised by cacophonous scorn & loathing Whispering hate, casual criticism. A personality scarred, losing and nearly lost. “Why cant I be happy” he said, to himself. “Because you have to ask the question”, he said back.