Poetry: How Do You Know?1 min read

The world has folded into apathy,
The people a jumble of missed opportunities,
The air as stale as hated words,
Who can tell me what to feel?
Who can show me how to grasp?
A faint stutter of lavish misconceptions
Rolling lies on a sea of broken backs,
smashing the minds like rotten eggs,
Who can promise me dreams of reality?
Who can interpret these hallucinations?
Dwell on this, the cell inside my psyche,
Trapping me from breaking free of this morose nightmare,
Skin crawls, body aches, eyes flutter, mind reels,
Who dares confront my inner demons?
Who wishes death upon the innocent slackers?
Who feels they know my heart or inner workings?
Who has received the brunt of my passion with bone and steel?
Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom?
Who has all the answers, who can say what life means?
Worst of all, how do you know?

vormaen

I am an enigma. Born a spectrum baby, raised an artist and daydreamer. US Veteran, Federal employee in the Behavioral Health field. Lover of life and curious of the individual struggle and how it guides the flow of Society.

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2 Comments

  1. I watched the older, now classic movie TERMS OF ENDEARMENT tonite.  It alone answers several of your questions.

  2. And the people being a jumble of lost opportunity.

    And those rolling lies.

    “Who dares confront my inner demons?
    Who wishes death upon the innocent slackers?
    Who feels they know my heart or inner workings?
    Who has received the brunt of my passion with bone and steel?
    Who can change the tesseract that engulfs us towards doom?
    Who has all the answers, who can say what life means?
    Worst of all, how do you know?”

    And there are many people with many such cells

    and your cell is yours

    and my cell is mine.

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