PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Living this lie we call life,

doing everything not

to give

up on this dream

we forgot

a resetting

of troubles to face;

days, which never

seem to go away,

Always the fear.

always the pain,

never any rest

from that threat

death: a shadow that lingers

running away from that fate,

living in denial to what is not

refusing to kiss, hating the rot

Always doing what feels nice,

refusing to accept the negation,

a life fleeting away, hoping to escape

in a temporary moment that fades,

Listening to the silence, but distracted

you choose to compose your death,

thinking it is your life, you murder

any opportunity to exist for a purpose

Deaf is what you are, you like to hear

yourself talk, an internal monologue,

an addiction to overthinking, this life

your plaything, it is nothing to you,

Because you are nothing to yourself,

meaning is lost, never was at a cost,

pleasure: the island, to keep you occupied,

 so hollow but still better than choosing,

Never paying attention to where you are,

because in that moment you feel yourself

die, so it is better to pass the time, then

to actually feel the guilt of being alive.