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Deep Dec 2021
Elders shall live
to fan the brewing worry,

"Who is next in line?"

Old Granny lives
and we're chill
it's her turn!

But does death descend
in an order?
ItxNotTrixh Nov 2021
Hell is here
        And here
        And everywhere you don't want it to be
You cut to the part of the play where we see Rome burning
        YOU: Sisyphus! Here is your rock!
        ME: Thanks, I thought I lost it!

I hit pause.
Up I go and down I come a
        Merry-go-round that throws up red water
        Free as a stallion
        Free as a show pony

                 Running running running—

You pull me back into the auditorium
        With a thought unheard in an unclean
        Chalice I can't help but drink from
Water from my head filling the crevices that are
Hidden deep
                Deepest and—
Cue the [crash]! and [burn]!
       (Ha! Get it! You’re burning in hell!)

That’s all this is, isn’t it?
       A carefully scripted (comedy) tragedy by a (God) Devil.
I read the script again.
You’re drowning in the fire of your sins
"Condemned by the Father you once loved
Like an unfulfilled prayer
Gathering dust in hell."
I throw it in the fire.

        Running running running.
some background to perhaps understand the poem: so i made the mistake of reading Fear and Trembling by kierkegaard and went through an existential crisis. kierkegaard basically argues that all that we do in life—all our hobbies, exercises, day-to-day activities—are simply things we use to ignore and keep us ignorant from the fact that life ultimately has no meaning from an individual standpoint. nothing matters. This isnt a new idea that i didnt know about before or anything but idk reading his work just shook me. and so i made this poem alkdsjfh so uh yeah aslkdjf just a small background
eurus Nov 2021
i am but a mere stranger in this ghost town
sitting on my throne with a silly little crown
here's to their words that cut to the bone
and the psychedelic skies guiding me home
Joanne Heraghty May 2021
Ten, nine-eight, seven,
Six-five, four,
Three-two, one.
No one questioned.
No one laughed or pouted.
The rain washed away the colours,
And we started again tomorrow.

Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
And so on.
We need answers.
We need reasons.
We are stuck in our tomorrows.
Our present fades out fast.

We are locked up in our timers;
Slaves to our master mints.
Our souls are dying,
With nowhere to hide
And no one to seek them.
Time does not stand still.

The chalk was our past time,
The clock is our taker,
And we play ourselves.
G A Lopez Jun 2020
I've been searching for the true meaning of life
Everytime I'm surrounded with people,
I feel alone and isolated
Feeling empty inside
My old life has withered away
All I did was meaningless
I'm lost,
Lots of regrets.
I'm always wrong
I can't seem to find my home
Altitude Apr 2020
I sought silence in noise,
sought darkness in light.
Sought love in medication,
sought pleasure in frustration,
forged personalities that were fake,
hoped for miracles on birthday cakes.
Attempted to see without looking,
listen without hearing,
speak without talking,
bagging to explore,
but tied down by worry.
A poem I made on 25th April 2016 that was almost forgotten until this day.
Abstract Mar 2020
I'm on an escalator

It's a long one

It's too slow

The voices are in my memory

Endless chatter, laughter and footsteps

Oh silence please don't disturb my reverie

The darkness of the floor I'm going to

Is perturbed by the light of the floor where I was

Time carrying me away without my consent

There's life outside the window

I wonder why those faces are gloomy

Are their thoughts the same as mine

This place is artless

Colors are liars

All I'm left with is a sad monotone

A sad joke robbed my laughter

It's all meaningless

I don't want to feel like this ever again

I'm on an escalator

It was a long one

It was too slow

-Chaitanya Mohan Sharma
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