My life is a worthless spiral of disappointment.
Working to do right just doesn't seem worth it.
I Take my home in the almost,
In the wake of pride's ghost.
Ever making the most of failure and rejection,
This lonesome reflection I'm left in.
Dejection is my family, I see
Happiness all around me, yet feel none!
The sun comes, but the fun, once loved, is dead.
I said the fun once loved is dead!
Head's ever spinning petulance.
Dead level, chagrin and malevolence.
Energy precipitation is the pattern,
Smattered reciprocation dry as dim lanterns.
It seems I'll never learn where to let mine burn.
My dreams are filled with sorrow for tomorrow,
gleaned only barred hope to borrow.
Always working to stay through this hell,
Only shirking today, to stray through it myself.
The spell so cast dishevels my mental state!
On the cusp of irate displays of dissatisfaction!
This satisfaction seems unnatainable, ungainable,
As crumbs under an empty table
Because the fun, once loved, is dead.
Internal feeling, hell!
Eternal bleeding shell.
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Author:
Drewseph (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 20th, 2021 23:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments2
when those easily - fed, lies
fit too well
in that doomsday of virtue signalling
victimhood
I would first ask, just for the sake of it
am I
the only one to feel this way?
if not
then how do other's, go about their day
without
adding, to the collective orchestra
of society's
doom and all-things gloom: easy-fit
of a narrative...
(thanks for sharing dear poet, and inspiring my little scribbled reply
please accept my apologies if you find me commenting this way: rude
that was never my intention)
Thanks again! Your poetic comments stimulate me, I appreciate your perspective.
age beings some wisdom hold on to that lol
and stay true to yourself not be easily influenced to not be who you know your are to be..
Of course, thank you!
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