My identity itself is folly,
The world is my pinball machine.
Life, it seems
Likes hurting me
I don't know how to stop it.
Serenity is ever lost on me
It swirls tantalizingly around
I fight, and scream
It's like surgery
I won't go now, I've lost it.
There is so much joy to be had
Where we exist employed to be sad
Nary a missed opportunity to laugh
Squarely scribbled on my epitaph
This is the way she goes,
The fickle mistress we call existence
We'll never know
Which way to go
Yet those with heart march on.
We all strive for knowledge
The cause for our endless blunder
We scratch and claw
Dispatched, foresaw
That we'll never sate our hunger.
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Author:
Drewseph (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2021 11:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
'Life, it seems
Likes hurting me
I don't know how to stop it.
Serenity is ever lost on me
It swirls tantalizingly around'
'Nary a missed opportunity to laugh
Squarely scribbled on my epitaph
This is the way she goes,
The fickle mistress we call existence'
'We all strive for knowledge
The cause for our endless blunder
We scratch and claw
Dispatched, foresaw
That we'll never sate our hunger.'
(might have been easier to just highlight
your whole poem at this rate, lol
an unashamedly honest, yet measured write
showcasing that powerfully resolute voice
resonating fluently, through your eloquent poetry!
a great read, thanks for sharing dear poet)
Thanks L.B! Your insight is very much appreciated.
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