Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
How strange a tide… apathetic to its core.
Novichok in the system — we’ve already hit the floor.
Not without warning for the interested few.
Sure, indigo on the spectrum, but black in our view.
Our prophets are wary, lamenting for the lot.
The glass thicker than ever: they’re forced to watch them rot.
Let’s not dilute it over biscuits and tea.
We’re addicted to passion; it drains both you and me.
Quit cold turkey; we’ll wither and die within the week.
We blew past the sabbath; so muddle on and be meek.
Telephone the skies, but the network is full:
We put off the harvest — our calls all but null.
“Don’t think just breathe and wait for the pull of the plug.”
There’s a way, truth, and life; but deafness is the most popular drug.
Our water is muddy; the dolls’ overjoyed.
Reject all the falsehoods; their eyes shimmer from the void.
I’m here to remind you there’s more than you think.
Dead end paths are common; they want you to sink.
Exist behind ego and you’ll miss the horizon.
Perspective’s a gift if you’re looking to wisen.
Races aren’t games for an aspiring professional.
Throw out your excuses you don’t need a confessional.
There’s anguish in the conviction; you’ll be forced to commit.
But sleep-walking is pervasive; few actually submit.
I am encased in oppressive flesh,
Tissues that restrict my transcendent nature.

If it weren’t for this burdensome cage
I’d evaporate and roll over the city with the clouds.
Azulene Azulia Jun 2019
This wicked world,
Is where I grew up.
Hated the crowd,
But I don't give up.
People stab me right in the heart,
And act like they are hurt.
Feeling this for ages,
Been living in the cages.
Dream Jun 2019
Your mind is confined in cages built by your own insecurities.
Gabby Dec 2018
Hearts are wild creatures. They don't do well with rules and are rarely willing to compromise. They are illogical in what they feel. The emotions they bear are quite intense. They break easily, but can be difficult to unearth. They can be gentle, compassionate, understanding, comforting, and delicate. Other times, a raging storm, burning with passion, aggressive, cold, and unforgiving. The emotions wage war and can be deadly. Maybe this is why hearts are kept in cages
Jade Jan 2019
Dark curly hair, swirling brown eyes, flawless face, perfect features.
It was beautiful.
But like all beautiful creatures it was caged and tormented.
Tested and abused.
Till finally it was internally broken and scared.
Now it’s considered normal.
Interpret as you will, feedback is greatly appreciated as I’m only just starting to write
Jay Sep 2018
oh, little ones
if I could build you a worthy city
to keep you safe and dreaming
I would crush the hope I had left
into a powder,
mix it
with all the things we grown couldn't be
and lay the slurry out to set,
harden it with sun and air
not hate
forming a foundation
where futures could be built
oh,
but my tools have no power
I dented them in fury and shorted them in tears
before they could be used to build  

oh, little ones
if ever I find safety in this homeless land
I'll wrap you in it
in a heartbeat
realizing you don't have the resources to help every worthy cause can be heartbreaking

6/19 update- It breaks my heart that this is still relevant
Do you hear them too? he asked.
the soft whispers of the abandoned
the musings of a memory long forgotten
the promise of a hope that’s yet to come.

Do you hear that wailing?
the sound of shattering dreams
tearing the skin, marking its presence
another drop in the ocean, another scream.

Walk away from it all, leave it behind
this is not a place one should visit
but how far can you go away
when it is your prison, you are in it.

The sunlight passing through is a lie
fettered to the sky, like you and your bars
close your eyes, but the wailing doesn’t stop
cut everything out, but that feeling won’t pass.

The strange fear in your heart will grow
choking, till you breathe in that pain
till you open those eyes and see
the misery that this life is the new mundane.

Look back and remember the past
Were you ever free? Ever able to fly?
If you were, would you just be like Icarus?
Shot down, with no one to hear your cry?

With each passing moment, the fetters will grow
till you forget what they really were for
with each passing moment, the cage will shrink
till you forget what you had lived for.

The Garden of Eden was never the truth
a memory simply woven out of sand
when the sea of time had waited enough
the tides washed away the promised land.
Next page