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Benjamin Aug 28
Like Sisyphus,
And Atlas himself,
We endure and we struggle,
To maintain our health,
The weight of the world,
An impossible task,
A moment of respite,
Is all we could ask,
Our life is no myth,
No legend of old,
But our story is real,
A tale to be told.
Benjamin Aug 26
I am less than the sum of my parts,
I am glue,
Holding things together is what I do,
Always in the background I stay unseen,
Always in the places inbetween.

I am less than the sum of my parts,
I am glue,
Without me there wouldn't be any you,
Always in the dark but staying strong,
Always, I've been there all along
Sometimes I'm an introvert, sometimes an extrovert, but when I'm an introvert I can feel part of the wallpaper rather then a focus, which is admittedly a very good thing most of the time, but sometimes just someone's presence shapes a situation, introverts are the glue that can hold things together.
Benjamin Aug 26
Differences are beautiful,
They make us all unique,
Without differences between us,
There'd be no reason to speak,
The cultures that divide us,
Are the same ones that unite,
The people that helped make us,
Are the reason that we fight
A short poem on why differences are what the make the world go round.
Benjamin Aug 25
Like Sisyphus,
And Atlas himself,
We endure and we struggle,
To maintain our health,
The weight of the world,
An impossible task,
A moment of respite,
Is all we could ask.
A short poem about the constant uphill battle we all fight everyday to do with our mental health, like sisyphus and atlas we can't give up, doesn't mean a moment of weakness is bad or that asking for help is a sign of weakness, if we all joined forces and pushed the boulder up the hill together, or held the world together on our shoulders as a union of people, life would be a lot easier.
Benjamin Aug 25
The crunch of bones,
The smell of blood,
The aching whisper,
Of pain to flood,
My brain complete,
Neurons explode,
The anger rising,
Through veins it flowed.

A lifetime away,
Maybe the next,
I'll have what others,
So easily fetched,
But till that day,
My time is numbered
I'll travel this life,
Unencumbered
A poem I wrote to vent some feelings of anger.
Benjamin Aug 25
Echoes of voices, resound throughout my head,
Ceaseless and never ending, they cry out,
Joyously malicious, their evil roots they spread.

Formless and corrupt, unable to be pinned down,
Ethereal, without origin, that I cannot remember,
Whispers, they turn my heart, in their words I drown.

The freezing cold, the biting frost of memories of the past,
The scorching heat of anger burns upon my cheeks,
I stand against the tide for control that will not last.

Wisps of dreams and ghosts they seem to forever knock upon my door,
My courage is fleeting, moving forward and meeting their endless siren call.
A short poem about the effect memory and thoughts can have on mood and depression.
Over thinking can be dangerous and cause your brain to become an echo chamber of negativity, magnifying and creating problems.
We always move forward with a shadow behind us.

— The End —