Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2017
It will do its best to hurt you, twist your emotions, break you financially, mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. It wants you to suffer. To break you before it can 'make' you. Snared between its gnarly teeth it has no remorse. Until the very end, it will bite in and grind, chewing on your patience until every day is simply the same and you beg for mercy. Recalling memories like postage stamps to a bygone era, days fold themselves away into neat envelopes, ready to be relived both now and never.  

Those who are sensitive know the score. That life is a game that sometimes they don't feel like playing. At times you win, at times you lose. The thrill of the ride is in the journey; that first rush of life that flows through your veins and down the drain. After that, routine is a mundane affair that will **** you if it gets the chance. By keeping you breathing.  

A victim to circumstance, you find yourself trying to take control where there is none. Frustration sunsets kick in and scream for resistance. But still, the routine. Average life, average dreams. Mr and Mrs Grey only become free to express themselves sexually as every other form of creativity is strictly banned. Colour an illusion, playing with love. There is shyness. Uncertainty where there should be knowing. TV drama. Break-ups. Celebrity divorce. Iraq. Iran. Paid for wars. ****** and delirious children. Emaciated women. Sexuality, a given. Robots on stage. Narcissism all the rage. Fear in fashion. Outrage but no action. We parade our pain online. Wax and wane. Reliving youth, former glory. And all the time we wonder where it ends. Begging for another story.
I guess this is more prose than pure poetry. Anyway, it is something that slipped through my consciousness this morning.
Anna Jones
Written by
Anna Jones  Widnes
Please log in to view and add comments on poems