"Exit seraphim and Satan's men." Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song

Every time I listen to music or see natural forms
That please the eye: sky, land, sea pass me by
My breathing becomes short, my heart is heavy,
I have sought content for my whole life but failed
To achieve a glimmer of all that might one day
Come to pass. I wish the future luck. I think it is
A failing that I cannot grasp the moment as the glib
Advise,  nor can I impose a sort of peace on the holy
Glimmers of good byes that pass before my privileged
Blue eyes. I stick upon the hopelessness of poverty,
The ugliness of defeat and I seek to meet the children
Of despair whose experiences measure our selfish
'Civilization', God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Then I shut my eyes and cry  begin again, again: alive.