Life stuck here, what's the end goal?
Living in a one way open fish bowl,
I don't want to be a recycled soul,
Sent back into another body whole,
Puppets masters want us to pay a toll,
Looking out for the ones really in control,
My mind works overtime, speculation on a stroll.
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: May 8th, 2026 03:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
The question is who is really in control. Nicely written this piece elevates the paranoia numbers. Well done
Appreciate it.
You are most welcome
Good write SM.
Cheers
Shaun, this really pulled me in. First, love the pic. For real. Also, tahe whole poem feels like standing inside your own thoughts while they race from existential dread into suspicion and back again. I especially loved the “fish bowl” image (in the poem, to be clear)...visible, trapped, observed. There’s frustration here, but also a real hunger to understand what sits beneath the surface of things. Dark, reflective work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks pal, yeah I guess I just feel like we are all going through the motions at times, I know God is real though and I have to be patient.
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