Saturday, June 16, 2018


Two years ago, I felt the same,
Two years later, I still feel the same,
I read my words, and the emotions are the same,
I hardly remembered a thing, do I never change?

When solitude becomes a curse,
And even when you're falling, you're never treated with grace,
And I've lost all on whom I counted,
First I had some, and now I have none.

And I'm grasping at straws, still searching,
This time an object, to absorb my pain,
An outlet, a vent, even a scarecrow,
An inanimate thing, just like me.

A seed needs sun, but the sun is away,
Even when it's right there, it'd rather not sway,
By the seed's needs, pleading for the sun,
But the sun is busy shining, away and away.

Left all alone, the seed is surviving,
Only for as long as the soil is rich, or the water's existing,
But when the entities come, and dig the seed out,
And poke and prod, and eat it loud.

If this was the way it was, why plant the seed?
Why give life, to the one that doesn't need,
Disappointment, and hurt, and lack of attention,
All a worthless gimmick, all superficial.

Why survive, if there's no one around,
Why feel the shade, to be sucked out aloud,
Trapped, tormented, breaking apart,
Why would you hurt more, when it's already hurt galore.

Don't be around, leave it alone,
Can't take care no more, lifeless gothic spore,
Ramblings, shambles, gambles a life,
Leaving, pleading, beating cracked organ,
The eyes feel hollow now,
I can feel the cold,
I can feel the distance,
I can feel the morose,
Locked all away, the battered sparks,
Ice filled the body, no more beats per hour,
Your betrayal, you can't notice at all,
If someone could explain to you, that would enthral,
No matter the words, one doesn't understand,
Speak, spoke, ignored, forgotten,
Closed the chest, of emotional collections,
No bother, no worry, so why do I stay,
Words that held meaning, are meaningless charade,
All my prized assets, have seen their ends,
I am hollow, and hollow shall I stand,
Wish I was a bird, I would fly far away,
But I'm not that lucky, I'm a cursed corpse,
Slowly moving towards a life not my own,
Passing by the mountains, of pain and bone.

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