Saturday, September 23, 2006
They beckon me to dream in this life emersed in trite battles. To enact upon this reverie, increasingly becomes despondent.
What end is it to be acknowledged after decay? The carelessness bestowed upon your life and accomplishments will be forgotten and taken for granted. accomplishments are nothing, they mean nought. Our lives are nondescript to ourselves.
We try everyday to set goals for ourselves. We set goals to nullity. Yet we still try. stubborn fools we. born of agnst, destined to perservere.
Life can only be enjoyed with an effigy, and when we depart they shall remorse a false eulogy.
So somber this vitality in need of liberation.
Weird Little Poem of this summer
love is as it does, comes and goes just because
hoping and wishing it comes a way, to visit me again someday
i chased it off cause it caused pain, betrayal the feeling, there's nothing to gain
the body is shelled out and hallow, sometimes the air so hard to swallow
breaking down beyond repair, through the eyes, a vacant stare
bitterness can overpower hearts, prevent opportunities for new starts
please try, do not succumb, less the body and mind be numb
forgive them for the hurt that held you down, they shall soon reap what they have sown
even if we dont see them pay, they will remorse and regret in their way
running now for penence sake, id rather hurt myself than be theirs to break
Yet another poem, I'm pretty sure i wasnt feeling too hot when i wrote these things.
Hidden, under depths of convulsions
the mask conceals the genuinethe common only see
remainders of my personality
feelings entrapped, frozen, lie in wait
for emancipation from a recollection fate
how keen i would be to disregard the past
The Lord does not grant me amnesia
every scar strengthenskeeps you cautioned
less you don't repeat the past
cease all feeling, and focus on insignificance, half mast
taking chances to escape monotony
inner chambers thaw, unprotected
waiting for disappointment to double its defense
this treasure trove now discovered immense
only the hunter can see
the true scars buried barely mending me
to the populous concealed
fear no more, once imperceptible, feelings resurrected