PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Wake up

Time to live

Time to blind yourself with daily costumes

Time to walk the plank of existence



Take the ride through the unearthed roadway paved with the souls of past times

As you arrive at your personal hellground, your time-card is stamped, and humanity is left at the door where hope lies decapitated



After that

You are you no longer

And worst yet

There's an audience leisurely observing your soul withering away with unsympathetic eyes

Or perhaps

Not even a look at all

Not even a single word of gratitude would mutter from their piggish, ill-passionate lips

Only to return to the Cycle of Indignity over and over again



...



You're hungry

But no time to feed



You're tired

But no time to rest



No time to laugh

NO TIME to live

NO TIME TO PRAY



For prayer is the assassin



And when the era of winter arrives

And if this torturous cycle never ends day after day

What happens if your reservoir is then drained of its contents

What if there's nothing to enjoy



Could it mean that your life's conclusion is becoming nothing but an empty husk sitting in a shadowed corner, twitching helplessly due to life's pointless hard labor



Only at the expense of

The Extortion of You

The Commodity of Soul