Withering

spilleronsheet

How fruitless life is

How stupid is to be alive

Everyone tells me to own your mistakes

But did  anyone allow me to live it once

Why rules were made

Why regulations were laid

Why abide means faithful

And choosing sounds deceitful

Is the length of life a possession of others

Why should I colour the canvas

If I don’t wish to

Why should I colour the canvas by the colours of their choice

How much more the tree should bend

Bending

And stretching beyond a point

The tree broke

And the elastic tore

I wonder why should one be alive

Why should I laugh

When all my eyes have

Are nothing but tears

How long should I fake smile

It’s been years of hopeless

And hapless existence

Wonder this fruitless journey could end

A journey nothing but pains

  • Author: spilleronsheet (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 17th, 2021 01:52
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 21
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments2

  • spilleronsheet

    Thanks a lot Marie…I feel much better

  • Paul Bell

    The great thing these days is the people with great advice you never asked for. Sometimes a sledgehammer is the tool required to get your point over. People tend to take notice when a sledgehammer is pulled from the holster. Plus, it makes you smile just that little bit more.

    • spilleronsheet

      Very true…I am happy that people are so good..that it feels we are never alone…



    To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.