Uncanny Cancer, under the veil of today’s bleak moon, the universe whispers messages of existential despair, dripping like wax from the candle of your life. The people around you, all puppets dancing blindly to the incessant ticking of the cosmic clock, seem unaware of the puppeteer’s gnarled hands that pull their strings, manipulating their reality into a grim masquerade. Still, do not forget, Cancer, that you too are marinaded in this pot of life’s nauseating soup, a mere marionette to the greater forces beyond.

This day unfurls its dark canvas for you, daubed with the crushing hues of trepidation and despair. Your dreams, once colorful and vibrant, now tangle with the gnarled branches of the monstrous tree of terrifying reality, having lost their innocent splendor. The walls of your thought-prison close in, whispering tales of fear and horror, a symphony only you can hear. Your only salvation, Cancer, is the acknowledgment of the void, an acceptance of the rotten core at the center of existence, embracing your role as a tragic player in the theater of the absurd. Listen closely, for today the drums of the cosmos beat a dirge just for you.