I guess I just start tapping my fingers on the keys until something forms.
A semblance of my ghost to rise again.
Some strung together hurricane of words that make me sound sad, but not too sad.
It seems like I've spent years stepping backwards, without realizing this is where I'd finally landed.
I hate this fucking version.
I stopped listening to myself, to get through loss after loss.
"Just get through this part. Okay, now this part".
But the "parts" never stopped happening.
It's like I got stuck in my own anxiety ridden, Woe is me plot line.
Where the reader is flipping the pages backwards, and I keep living the same chapter over again.
No falling action, just rising action, rising action, RISING ACTION.
Heres to turning the page forward, and ending this piece of shit book once and for all.
-
Author:
halfwayelite (
Offline) - Published: August 15th, 2022 18:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
More Power to You, Brave Poet!
we must all, Fight
that good Fight and excavate
and excavate, some semblance
of meaning and worth
from this - thing, we've titled
existence!
thanks for sharing, stay Strong!
'I stopped listening to myself, to get through loss after loss.
"Just get through this part. Okay, now this part".
But the "parts" never stopped happening.'
and this, we call
A
life...
such is that accursed coin flip of fate
while some
have yet, to have a loved one die
never failed a test or job application
and found a lasting love
in that school playground...
'but their alcohol will ever be bitter
while ours
just tastes sweeter and sweeter...'
Thank you-
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