I suffer from a new dis-ease:
Adolescent defeatism.
The daily loss of something small
Is breaking down my confidence
Of ever risking much at all.

I gave up grapes of sweet success,
Instead to drink up daily asp.
Hormesis! Please, do grant me strength
To bear the poisons of defeat.

Embracing loss with heart and soul
Is killing killer instincts that
Could help me cut through obstacles.

I blame, instead, and shame myself.
I call myself a “Loser”, “Done”.

I shudder at the thought of work.