some people simply need to
be unhappy, they'll scrounge it out
of any given situation
taking every opportunity
to point it out
every simply error
or oversight
and then become
hateful
dissatisfied
vengeful.
don't they realize that
there's so little
time
for each of us
in this strange
life to make things
whole?
and to squander
our lives living
like that
is nearly
unforgivable?
and that
there's never
ever
any way
then
to recover
all that which will be
thus lost
forever?
Charles Bukowski - The Flash of Lightning Behind the Mountain
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