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Principal is to the matter, My dead silence woes... Anxious anticipation forever, Downward disappointment we go... If a light breaks the surface, Suffice the disease breaths at heart... Bleeding a reality I must face... Shredding three times a soul apart... Frustration to even explain... What I can't even understand... Rabidly desolating my name.... When all adoration fails... I begin to lose who I really am... |
Interesting... myself, I have forgot to struggle, forgot to strive, forgot to worry about much of anything at all. Hence I have additionally lost any creativity of late, kind of like a mushroom which no longer grows, it's purpose apparently fulfilled and nothing left to do but whither away slowly. At this point I don't really know if I ever was "myself", but just a series of weather changes as the seasons passed. My own guitar stands and stares at me, wondering why I never learned to play it so much as play with it. Hey, maybe that storm is yet to come? | Posted on 2016-04-23 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] | Very introspective perspective on human nature and the ills that befallen us if we are not completely honest with ourselves. A thought provoking poem. | | Posted on 2016-04-13 00:00:00 | by MaryMaryBeth | [ Reply to This ] | |