Hive Lost Mind: Wilted Will I

An existential fate,

     Lies as a tongue in the palm feeding your mouth by hand, Escaping the desolation of a harbinger G-d in the mirror as it perpetuates a dying no longer virtuous breath, Seething white sulfurous rage upon the reflection standing half willing to be crucified vibrant before the greedy fangs of hate.

In lieu of our sufferings,
Mental help was,
Never offered...