CRUEL words, a given of life, but uneasy input to a poem.
LIVID comes next, adding to oppressive sense. Cruelty and anger,
SPIED at remove, or experienced up close, or inflicted,
BLEND into malaise. Where is peace, where joy, who can establish them?
Note: still behind a day.
The malaise is a result of the cruel words, I’d say, Dave, and possibly the oppressive sense. Or maybe just being one day behind…?