PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I feel as if a fool for believing myself, for as I utter my beliefs like a spool of wool, I know that I drool of pure lies, even in my own eyes. 

I wonder what it is that know’s this, for it can’t be me that see’s this fleece of pretense

It’s as if secret when you look for something true

One will look with intensity and find nothing but the bill for your own dues

There must be a place from which one can stand that is unadulterated by the substance that we create in our heads

In bed when our heads will finally rest, are our dreams a test or are they are what they are, it’s as if all is a question, it’s really quite bizarre.

It’s hard to understand what even get’s me out of bed in these troubling times, life feel’s shallow, all treble and no bass line. 

The scars of the past hit me as if they happened today, like when it’s the weekend and you SWEAR it’s a Tuesday

I don’t know who I am, it’s a loss of identity,I’ve strayed far from my home, I am now a foreign entity, that hurts itself mentally, where self motivation is of little nor crucial importance, basking in apathy where hell makes you cozy.

It says you are free while it straps your heart to the concrete. 

These are all just feelings that are being wrote, not doing it for fun, nor as a joke. More as a goal, for some clarification, that all that weighs on my shoulders prove to be distraction, making the road home seem longer than intended.