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Marga Oct 4
maybe we held each other too close
which made us now too loose.

maybe we became too dependent,
that made us now feel indifferent.

we can pretend this is easy,
but how long will we both feel weary?
Viseract May 7
"How much do you really care?"
"How much do you really wanna know?"
"Badly"

lights cigarette " Well...let me tell you"

You, could, have the worst day and I'd laugh in your face
Tell you I told you that joy was erased
Look to the sky and be blinded by light...
-ning as it crashes down, cuts through the night!

Hell's gates could open, and in you would fall
And with all your screams, I'd still feel **** all!
You could walk off the flat earth and into the void
I'd carry on normal, and not paranoid!

Turned into ashes, blasted to bits
Drowned in a lake, in my face your neck splits
Spray me with blood, I won't feel a thing,
I'd lap at the crimson, thanks for the feed!

Death welcomes all, where life may not want to
The curtains will fall, and then you'll see the truth
The truth of it is, I only care enough to tell you
To yell or to whisper, I won't mourn when they bury you!
Conform that face to my fist, please
We've burned enough bridges
I think it's time we fix it
I'm afraid to reach out and find you feel indifferent
Would you want to live in a world again
Where you and I are more than friends

I keep coming back to this
Cause baby it was magic
If there's such a thing as good love we had it
Maybe I don't know if it was good enough
But baby I still know it was a good, good love
4.5.2020
I think I’ll just sit here
brooding so quietly
in contemplation, 
indifference washing over me.

I've  been sitting
on cracking pavement
all **** day.

Bored to tears, but I’m just full of being empty.

I won’t feel this. I won’t feel this sting.
I’m not feeling much of anything

And I say “Love is just a lie, formed to get us by.” You said “Its too soon. It’s just too soon to trust you."

And as I look up
to this skyline we no longer share,
I can’t help but to feel like
maybe I just no longer care.

Maybe that’s too easy.

But I’m taking the easy way out.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s nothing left to care about.


Things aren’t the same.
I don’t feel pain.


I’m just not feeling a god ****** thing.
I like taking old poems and rewriting them in a different light. This is a rewrite of sorts of Cracking Pavement; Broodish
I want to feel disappointed
I want to feel like I have failed
But the feeling I feel most often
Is feeling impervious to things that should bother me most

I know what I should feel
unease, disheartened, and anxious
But all I feel is placid, empty, and slightly annoyed

So I sit on my bed at 2 am and wait for something to fill me
Fear, determination, or irritation
so I can fill out the papers next to me
even with the knowledge of its utter importance
I still couldn't give a ****
What shall it be called when one knows they are failing oneself?
when the simple decision to succeed is the only thing lying between
the fear of failure has been replaced with the fear of fortune and good will

Because, where will the reasons for being the way you are go?
when succession is upon us

It is as if you set out, one day last week, to be the person you have always resented
Sleeping all day, staring at a screen all night and getting nothing done in dreams or real life
With sleep you are met with only nightmares, yet you'd rather be there than here
And your wakefulness only brings about regret for the hours that you spent in your bed

so you sleep again to hope that a new day will erase the problems of yesterday
but instead you bring the problems of today into tomorrow
a never-ending cycle that spins round and round until you're overwhelmed or you don't give two ***** about the person you once were or have become
i didn't think my depression was back, but it most definitely is
it has taken on new form, and fooled me for quite some time
Kimi Feb 20
i wonder what it feels like to live without worry.

is it like a flowing river, forever in motion, with nothing but the rocks to slow it down?

or is it like my childhood dog gnawing on a bone in my back porch?

to live without worry or true damage is a goal that will never be attainable.

to live a life of indifference.

i want it, i want it.
Monet Echo Dec 2019
I’m here.
I exist.
There’s nothing to resist.
I’m not happy, not sad.
I don’t remember how it feels to be mad.
I’m not melancholy. Not depressed.
Not thinking about what comes next.
Just here. Just existing.
So please stop insisting
That I’m upset or unstable.
I'm just sitting at an internal table.
Watching life happen with an unattached view.
Don’t worry, I’m fine.
It passes with time.
No, it wasn’t you.
I promise, I’ll be okay.
I just can’t feel today.
But... it’s better this way.
It’s just my mental defense.
No I’m not tense.
I’m indifferent to everything.
Yes, everything.
I’ll be fine tomorrow.
I promise it’s not sorrow.
Just let me be today,
and tomorrow you’ll see I really am okay.
I wrote this while having an episode of derealization. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically when you detach from reality (although much more scientific than that). This is more than just “zoning out.” Its almost like a dream. It’s having the inability to feel absolutely anything. Often times my senses feel muffled. Everything just seems fuzzy, distant, and unreal. Indifferent is the only word I’ve found to describe how I feel in the moment accurately, because every other word I’ve tried implies emotion, and there is none during a derealization episode. Sometimes when this happens I don’t recognize my own body as me. It seems like I’m trapped inside a foreign body just watching life happen. My body goes into auto pilot and acts normal, so usually no one even notices. However, sometimes if it’s a really strong derealization episode, even my body doesn’t function properly and I seem withdrawn and depressed. This poem is supposed to be me reassuring someone who sees me in that extreme state that I will be okay. That I’m not depressed, not mad, not sad, etc. But that I just need time for this feeling (or more like lack there of) to wear off. I wanted to write it with an air of patience, due to my inability to be annoyed by people’s questions while I’m experiencing it.
Priyam May 2019
So there's a pocket in my purse
Its unopened or maybe its cursed
Am I just indifferent or maybe I'm afraid
(I'll let you in a little secret)
It's where I keep my favorite blade

It's been in my company for quite some time
In the moments I chided, in the moments I chimed
I have always kept it close like a love another
(I don't even know how to say this)
Sometimes even closer than my very own mother

But I like how it feels on my soft skin
I carve through my teary eyes, a ****** grin
But sure I hope that I don't die
(I don't do it to **** myself)
It just gives me hope that the bad times will pass by

Its been a while since I have cried
I feel like a psychopath with no feelings to define
So I reach out for my blade in the purse to feel something
(I won't throw it away so soon)
It gives me joy to know that i can sense, even if its hurting.
Kenji Mar 2019
Your pretensions have you doing wrong.
You misleading yourself into opinions and facts that are brainwashing your own thoughts and integrity.
It's interrogating your thoughts and your actions have you proving wrong.
Are you really who you say you are or are you faking the person you show?
It's mind ******* isn't it...
No one is whom they say they are, but who they say they are is just a clone of them trying to be different, not realizing that they they just like everyone else.
The proven truth is that, everyone is like everyone, not everyone is different, and not everyone can try to be.
Everyone that exists lives off other people, influences, brainwashes and media.
Everyone is trying to be someone else and something they are not.
We call ourselves different, imperfect, significant, and unique.
But the truth is that we are all the same and none of us are unique, we are insignificant is this vast universe.
Just admit that we are all regular people trying to be something we are not.
It's not wrong to admit such, it proves that you are just human and we are all on different journeys, the soul however, the same, the canvas is different, same tears, same form...
Arms, legs, fingers, sweat, scars, veins...
We bleed the same and all wear clothes.
It's fine to be like everyone else, it's okay.
We don't have to different, just, indifferent.
And that is the answer, stop admitting your rights, start admitting your wrongs too.
The faults of humanity
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