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Weeks turn into months The months drag on for years As the clocks hands violently spin Time seems to eloquently disappear Lying for what seems to be eons In hollow shell that once was Praying for a new tomorrow Never seemingly comes The suns rays gently shine through Only tease me with a glimmer of hope That never seems to ensue Wishing the warmth I have felt I never knew Visual wonder seems to blend Into an everlasting monotone grey Staring into the empty wall No stimulation to relieve my pain Joy is nothing but word For the mere feeling is left heard And by my hands alone I sink Into the darkness of night I’m never assured   For imagination can thwart the coming days Relieve my mind traveling on an escape But for how long must you hold fast Slowly as it becomes a twisted decay For what I want I try to reach to grab Only to grasp a hold for mere seconds Slowly slipping through cracks of my hands Returning to a bleak existence As you search for the good you wish to find In those few faces that abound Your own misanthropic views Seem to chase away those who are sound So alone as you are to thee you must face As your mind tears itself apart on endless race Slowly you try as you fight against an uphill slope Left to your own devices endless suffering without hope
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Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Futility that Has Become
Weeks turn into months The months drag on for years As the clocks hands violently spin Time seems to eloquently disappear Lying for what seems to be eons In hollow shell that once was Praying for a new tomorrow Never seemingly comes The suns rays gently shine through Only tease me with a glimmer of hope That never seems to ensue Wishing the warmth I have felt I never knew Visual wonder seems to blend Into an everlasting monotone grey Staring into the empty wall No stimulation to relieve my pain Joy is nothing but word For the mere feeling is left heard And by my hands alone I sink Into the darkness of night I’m never assured   For imagination can thwart the coming days Relieve my mind traveling on an escape But for how long must you hold fast Slowly as it becomes a twisted decay For what I want I try to reach to grab Only to grasp a hold for mere seconds Slowly slipping through cracks of my hands Returning to a bleak existence As you search for the good you wish to find In those few faces that abound Your own misanthropic views Seem to chase away those who are sound So alone as you are to thee you must face As your mind tears itself apart on endless race Slowly you try as you fight against an uphill slope Left to your own devices endless suffering without hope
Written by
22/M/The Dirty South
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
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