Misery is a blanket.You wrap it around yourselfand say you are comfortable.but you are not.The blanket is scratchy and old.It is full of holes and is threadbareIt is uncomfortable.Sometimes painful.still you insist on carrying it around with you.you bring it everywhere with you.draped over your shoulderssometimes even draped over your head.no one gets why you find comfort in it.it is sometimes obvious that you hate itbut when people tell you to get rid of ityou try but just can’t bring yourself to itYou find it a while agoand like an old friendyou greeted it with a hugAnd it stuck aroundMisery is a blanket.You wrap it around yourselfand say you are comfortable.but you are not.The blanket is scratchy and old.It is can be painfulyou carry it everywhere with you.and hide your discomfort
