Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
As I sit and think,
I reach the brink,
Of mental exhaustion,
Not heeding to caution,
All the pain in my head,
I'm reaching the limit,
Of life and death,
And the reality gimmick,
Everything is perfectly placed,
Yet nothing has meaning,
I feel disgraced,
Yet I have no feeling,
When my thoughts grow larger,
The nerve receptors break,
Not tempting to barter,
With whatever makes,
Other portions,
Of consciousness spark,
There's no assortment,
We're just one part,
Floating in the void,
The vast nothingness,
Defined as girls ad boys,
And transgenders bluffing it,
All identities breaking,
Anf omring stronger bonds,
To another unreal self,
Lounging on the lawn,
Sipping a cup,
Of unsweetened tea,
And diving further,
Into reality.
Sketcher
Written by
Sketcher  18/M/Blaine, Washington
(18/M/Blaine, Washington)   
114
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems