The saddest things are tucked away
inside the crevices of our brain,
and no matter what we do
they can never truly escape;
even though we've developed
so many ways that try to convey,
express,
relay,
radiate,
exculpate and transmit
feelings locked inside our cabinet,
regarding our ultimate discontent
with the state of things;
hoping connection, or just
letting something out might bring
some form of release,
from the existential
and utter defeat
of facing reality's
crushing gravity;
the cascading sadness
falling around us
like so many
broken tin cans,
never understanding
why they were emptied
like, "What was the plan,
am I here for a reason
other than to feel pain?"
Kick me down the road again
until I feel the curb's soft-end
shove me back into the ground
and then,
maybe I'll get the release
from grief I seek,
but it was still better
to get it out before
leaving, I think.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 12:05 AM UTC
The saddest things are tucked away
inside the crevices of our brain,
and no matter what we do
they can never truly escape;
even though we've developed
so many ways that try to convey,
express,
relay,
radiate,
exculpate and transmit
feelings locked inside our cabinet,
regarding our ultimate discontent
with the state of things;
hoping connection, or just
letting something out might bring
some form of release,
from the existential
and utter defeat
of facing reality's
crushing gravity;
the cascading sadness
falling around us
like so many
broken tin cans,
never understanding
why they were emptied
like, "What was the plan,
am I here for a reason
other than to feel pain?"
Kick me down the road again
until I feel the curb's soft-end
shove me back into the ground
and then,
maybe I'll get the release
from grief I seek,
but it was still better
to get it out before
leaving, I think.
