Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
So the way clarity functions is that you need to leave your shell, put in your perspective the truth your soul held, which was that any identity that you may or may not have is constructed from the remnant and debris of fossilized traditions and institutions of greed. Let go of everything, they say. Let go of everything and give in to the truth. But you lose yourself as a part of the journey, and that's way too steep of a price due. I mean, what am I to do, fulfilled yet empty, void of all individuality, just jaded and immersed in a mist of blissful agony, holding on to a false sense of reprieve that may escape me the moment I stop any of these rituals I practice daily, and I see how fragile this really is. Maybe the key to this locked safe is tucked away somewhere else. Maybe there is a way for me to find an answer without saying yes to every doctor with medicine in hand, diagnosing me as sick. Maybe the answer lies in accepting my truth, that I'm climbing a rose stem, and I should stop ruminating over every *****
0
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 7:12 AM UTC
Climbing the Rose Stem
So the way clarity functions is that you need to leave your shell, put in your perspective the truth your soul held, which was that any identity that you may or may not have is constructed from the remnant and debris of fossilized traditions and institutions of greed. Let go of everything, they say. Let go of everything and give in to the truth. But you lose yourself as a part of the journey, and that's way too steep of a price due. I mean, what am I to do, fulfilled yet empty, void of all individuality, just jaded and immersed in a mist of blissful agony, holding on to a false sense of reprieve that may escape me the moment I stop any of these rituals I practice daily, and I see how fragile this really is. Maybe the key to this locked safe is tucked away somewhere else. Maybe there is a way for me to find an answer without saying yes to every doctor with medicine in hand, diagnosing me as sick. Maybe the answer lies in accepting my truth, that I'm climbing a rose stem, and I should stop ruminating over every *****
AlphaPikachu
Written by
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 7:12 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem