When you're spent,
As in, you've no energy left,
You feel out of sorts, like you're bent,
And you want whatever it is going on,
To be over, and you're furious on the inside,
with yourself, with life, because you were wrong.
And people have let you down.
And you drink, or smoke, and think, you're broke,
As in broken, on the inside,
You've just rolled the dice this time,
And lost.
But that's it, isn't it?
Sometimes you win.
And sometimes you lose.
You keep playing, hoping for the win.
As in, The Win.
And what you don't realise is, the wins you've had,
Are already wins, right, so why look for more?
"You should be glad", but they don't understand!
No one can understand,
Except you.
So, you walk in the streets, in the dark, and the wind, and the rain.
As in, at night, alone.
And that's what it feels like, on the inside, in your brain, again.
Your mind is lost, where once it was calm and steady.
You visit a beach, and you feel kin with the sea,
Because that's you, isn't it?
One minute tumultuous, the next, not.
At least, that's me.
-
Author:
siranswerer (
Offline) - Published: February 3rd, 2019 14:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Fay Slimm., mattjg98
Offline)
Comments3
And, at least you know how to express what's in you with the poetry you write, I like it and think you did really well with your metaphor of the indulgences we all are all tempted to fall for. Underneath your poem hides many introductions towards a better life rather than walking those streets you talk about, Fantastically expressed, my friend.
Marvelous - took my breath away
Excellent poetic description of the ins and outs when counting the cost of losing and winning. This goes into my favourites to ponder over again.
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