Lost inside my own skull.
Floating around in a world where up is right,
And happiness is a packet of camels and some pills.
Where my days are spent doing nothing,
Watching T.V.
Sleeping.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
A disc that plays over and over again.
With subtle changes,
But yet is stops at that same moment every time.
And every time it stops,
You question why your listening to it in the first place.
What's the point in listening to the same thing again and again and again and again.
Wouldn't it be easier to just… pull the plug.
End the C.D.
Press Pause.
Let the player drop to the floor.
And let yourself do the same.
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Author:
G (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 5th, 2018 10:14
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem was more difficult than the others I've written as it is a reflection on some own depression I've had befire. I'm really interested in what you think of it and any critism you have. Thanks. G
- Category: Sad
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Fox
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Comments1
Such a powerful write, but you are right to keep looking up, that is the way to look.
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