Blinded by fake-ups and look-sees Brainwashed by surgeries and fakeries Withheld by ridiculous ideals Restrictions aided by societal feels
To them she was an outcast But she was my Aphrodite They could jest all they wanted But I was taking home this deity
To remove all the tussles Seive out the floccs Solve all the puzzles Open my Pandora's box
Whatever I found I wouldn't fright Rather I think I'd take delight Take me oh seductress to your chamber Of your soul I'd love to be a member
Where they saw flaws I saw beauty I saw angels doing their duty They thought what I saw microscopic I thought their primitive minds myopic
This strange creature unlike any I'd seen Had pulled my heart and tugged at the seam As she tore it open all I could find Was I was a goner and I didn't mind
Her beauty had left me mindless My entire being insentient I could all but do her bidding To this I was very willing
Everywhere I go, I see mindless people, Everytime I listen, I hear mindless voices, Everytime I look around, I see mindless behaviour, Everytime I close my eyes, I dream mindless dreams.
This world is filled with mindlessness, is it ever going to change?
I'm just a doll come to life Only activated when people come to me I am a blank canvas ready to be painted By conversations and events of the day I am a mindless soul wandering throughout life Turning on when people need me or want me. I am not an individual,merely stitches of multiples put together as one: ideas, personality, tendencies, not original but not cliche. Who I am is pieces of different persons seen together in different colors and taste of personalities. I am only made of others but none of myself personally. Each person is their own to be what they choose But I am only a canvas a thought of their muse I only self activate on the blue moon For I am only made from recycled blues
It's suffocating. This mind. Reeking here and there. Gasping for an idea. To illuminate. It's ever growing corners. The claw marks on the walls are ever so.. Apparent. Given the choice. The match may never be struck. For these walls have become the momento.. Walking them daily. Adding more as each claw digs deeper. Waiting for the next one has lost its horror. Just as avoiding the inevitable. Has. This gambit. Must allude to something of value.. Or was the real misfortune. Believing. Gluttony seems to favor the fool. Even if the world.. Sees otherwise.
Hello my old friend. I guess it’s nice to see you again. You’ve been visiting me so much lately. Nothing in my head is forming anything straightly It’s all jumbled and clouded and mixed. I don’t know how this problem can be fixed Writer’s block has gotten a hold on me! It just won’t let my writings be! I used to be able to write poem after poem, But now I’m lucky if I even get a quote done. Maybe if I shoot myself in the head The creativity will spill out all over my bed. I want to make a name for myself! But right now, I just see my book on a dusty shelf. I continuously tap key after key Why won’t any nice rhymes come out of me? I keep on searching and searching I do all of my researching On the topics I need to write Yet nothing in this poem seems right I want to write about my personal experiences. But right now my book is on clearance. I don’t feel good enough to make it in this industry I don’t want to let this blank mind stop me Yet it feels as if I have no choice. It feels as if I have lost my voice. Writer’s block is Ursula in the deep sea She made this contact with me I grew my vocabulary but lost my voice Why did I make this choice? It’s just mismatched words and no originality Where is my creativity? I used to have such a loud mind. But now everything’s quiet and I mind.
Of course the full first poem I’ve written in a month is about not being able to write. Sounds like me, I’m just the type.
I awoke covered in autumn leaves under a dying tree. A dead cold breeze flees & returns through out me. As if I had holes in my body & the wind doesn't acknowledge me. Melancholy fog shelters this cemetery While I lay here, my face against the graveyard grass. My head tilted to the right, staring at written dates on tombstones without engraved epitaphs. There lays the buried graves of my past selfs
