Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
afinitecreaturePoems
what to do with a broken knee cap, tilted mindscape, loss of stabilized perception? comb the hair to the right, let the fringe do all the talking, bang, bang, bang shoot down the rest of the face; for it's smiles that keep us at bay, until we are saddened once more by those despicable thoughts how they cease to persist. but persist they must for what is a being without opposition? be it itself or a finely structured organization. and so as organisms it's our duty to rise, expand, fall and collapse and continue this without much reason and purpose till it's no longer a viable option. sung to sleep by the various choices; lulled awake by auto-pilot actions,-- i am a grievance unto myself and it's this truth that opens a multitude of worlds to me. happiness is a warm slum where all the villagers huddle by the fire, and speak of good old days gone by. they shall come again, and again. joy gleaming with viciousness, pouring out each pupil as though it were a lullaby searching for the ear of a newborn.
0
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Foreign
what to do with a broken knee cap, tilted mindscape, loss of stabilized perception? comb the hair to the right, let the fringe do all the talking, bang, bang, bang shoot down the rest of the face; for it's smiles that keep us at bay, until we are saddened once more by those despicable thoughts how they cease to persist. but persist they must for what is a being without opposition? be it itself or a finely structured organization. and so as organisms it's our duty to rise, expand, fall and collapse and continue this without much reason and purpose till it's no longer a viable option. sung to sleep by the various choices; lulled awake by auto-pilot actions,-- i am a grievance unto myself and it's this truth that opens a multitude of worlds to me. happiness is a warm slum where all the villagers huddle by the fire, and speak of good old days gone by. they shall come again, and again. joy gleaming with viciousness, pouring out each pupil as though it were a lullaby searching for the ear of a newborn.
afinitecreature
Written by
afinitecreature
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem