PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Feigned progression is feigned contentment. 

Creating a source for substance. 

But as you shuffle forwards

The mind clutches back,

Raising questions that have no answers

But that to which you give them.

And he who seeks definition 

Will be forever out of reach. 

The self has risen, up and out,

Of what was once familiar in absence of. 

And whilst we've grown moreso

Into ourselves;

We envy the bliss of misdirection. 

For in that moment, we could afford it.

It flowed healthily from our ill-gotten lips

And spread out, malicious, within. 

Moving forward comes at the cost

Of repeatedly reliving what's past;

That which will plunge us

Back into depravity worshipped. 

Blindness sees us fumbling ahead, 

When it is so clear from what we have come. 

Comfort in life lived

But not in a life lead.