Everything Is Awful

I Can’t Hold On any more than the leaves in autumn. As they turn gold crimson and orange they break off from the tree and fall. I can’t hold on any more than the emerging butterfly from the safety of the chrysalis. My budding wings have spurred me to fly. If I hold on I’ll only die. I can’t hold on any more than a snake shedding his old skin. No longer can it stretch to fit this body. It’s thin and worn. And I can’t grow under a cloak with holes. It’d rot the fibers of my soul.