Clockwork Man
The broken man smiles, when he doesn’t have to. He laughs, even when there is nothing funny. He looks up the sky and wonders why he is like this, but the sky does not reply.
At the table, he eats, with burning vigor, and yet, already weak, grows weaker still as the days go by. Walking at the heads of the popular lines, he envisions the sun on its rise and no one sees him.
His mind could fly, high and yet, instead of using his minds inner eye he ponders on the fact that, one day, he will die. Looking up to the sky he sits and cries and wonders why oh why and the sky does not reply.
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Author:
B.A. Anderson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 14th, 2021 20:36
- Comment from author about the poem: I personally have experienced multiple periods of sadness that have left me confused on multiple fronts, including where I am as a person and who exactly I am becoming as a person while also struggling with the judgement of society.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
I like how you used the aesthetics of your write
to help, reinforce the broken/wrongness
of that self-hindering thought process: freefall abyss
you're depicting/empathising with..
thanks for sharing, dear poet
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