How long?
How long must I live a life I despise?
How long can I bear my own lies?
How long can I pretend I'm alright?
How long till I just break down and die?
How long till my class is over?
How long till the day is done?
How long till for this degree to end?
How long till I give up and run?
How long till the show is over?
How long till I run out of courage?
How long must I wear this mask?
How long till I break onstage?
How long till I feel real again?
How long till my life's my own?
How long till I can be free?
How long can I possibly go on?
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Author:
ᴍᴏᴏɴ (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 7th, 2026 07:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ.
Offline)
Comments3
A good write that only the questioner can answer. We have all asked this from the bull rider reaching for an eight second ride to old man celebrating his hundredth birthday party. Well done
Nicely done
What a powerful piece, Sylva. The repetition gives the whole poem this relentless pressure...school, performance, identity, and sheer exhaustion all closing in at once. It feels deeply human and painfully immediate. Beautifully done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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