It all starts with a thought that follows a pop
So vivid and appealing like a curious onslaught
Then the person starts grooving out of the block
Views change, make shift, foundations are formed
Weak flame, pledged words, a moth to a bulb
Big talks, fake blogs, witfully involved
Visually lost, embraced the chaos, but that’s not enough
Growth-fully stunned, what’s wish to a cause, gracefully lost
Blinded by love, falling down a slump, to fulfill the duty to the loved ones
Amidst the carnage, the survivor can’t protest
Ravages of wars again and again, without a break
Leaves the person with nothing intact, no sense of sobriety
No realizations, No hope, just pitch black dent
And nothing’s new just plain ol’ Lament
While everything seems to make them upset
Moderating the pain to soothe the backlash
Fell in depravity, now can’t even sleep for a sec
No notion or moderation yet they try to fulfill their conquest
Their whole world is falling apart yet they can’t seem to stop themselves
For all they know is to work and work and work, so inhumane-like self
A glimpse of countless fallen souls, heroes bound for hell,
Enduring storms so cruel, even therapy lost its spell.
What you talk to isn’t even a human anymore but a charred combusted shell
Whose silence screamed for help
For years they endured so much, a salute to their resilient self
Wish someone would have noticed their stutter
Some kind words, a simple compliment, a flutter
Maybe a graceful guide, bucket-full of hopes and a house of surprise for shelter
Maybe a good friend, and a great teacher, for them to not pretend either
To mend the vice of the bitter, cries of the Aether, heart that is cluttered
Before it falls back to the nether
Their cries went in vain yet the voices still refrain
Afraid of losses and faces scorned with disdain
Forcefully smiling throughout the pain
Imminently violent and without restraint
Engulfed in the darkness for the darkness smothers their brain
Vengeful and perplexed without a rest
Their hatred is genuine, perfectly jest
For the cries that went unseen and the angst of mesh
A turmoiled life, A fractured mess
Hope is but a blundered sail
Plethora of monologues, a crumbling rail
Exhausted sighs, eerie gales
A Note Not Worth The Bother
A Ghastly tale
-Asher Graves
I really like writing darker poems
