To have antagonised hardships
and always starting by looking at the simpler ways to go about.
I began looking at things as troublesome chores
and found routine in giving up any notions of trying.
My only possession was reliance on others,
barely pushing through on their good graces.
But what claim had I, for myself?
I have nothing to be proud of, nothing to show for myself,
no effort of my own, no personal accomplishments.
Ceaselessly I trained a weak disposition, frail resolve, self-loathing.
To the point of losing every ounce of earnestness
and not remembering when it was gone.
More admirable I might have been, when I was the idiot
who foresaw humiliation and failures
but ploughed on for lack of deliberation.
I have come for enlightenment and returned with soul rotten by leisure.
How degraded is a pride infested by complacency?
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