My sole activity is mere existence
I live my life in quiet submission
So that nothing distracts from my task
I make sure my loneliness is here to last
Yet I know there’s something beyond
Otherwise I would not write these miserable songs
I believe it to be something real
But I would not be the first with misplaced zeal
Something that cannot be described
At least by any mortal mind
It is a state beyond being
The end of all things fleeting
What is the tragedy of dying young?
What curse to not live long?
How wretched to live to see
The death of love and dreams
How terrible a fate, to live many a day
To see your mind and body decay
I care nothing for the moralists and their talk of duty
In the end, Death is the martyr of beauty
Both young and old bodies fade away
But freed from its prison, the young soul is saved
The soul condemned to life loses everything else
And even that life becomes but a shadow of itself
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Author:
Thomasine Dye (
Offline) - Published: June 4th, 2022 00:06
- Comment from author about the poem: An older work of mine; written in a difficult moment, and I no longer completely agree with my message, but I still consider it to be one of better poems.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
I LOVED, I repeat LOVED this poem. I understood the feeling and really appreciated the raw emotion flowing throughout this piece. You told an important story with your words.
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