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I want to be alone
This is rare because I like people
They keep me sane
But right now
It's just the opposite
I'm tired
Let me be alone...
Johnny walker Nov 17
We bring nothing Into this life
and for sure take nothing out
of late got me thinking what the
point of It
all
Sure I'm on a downer admittedly
since Helen past but even before
I met her I was still asking the
same questions
The same thing I'd been asking
from the day I was old enough
to think for me, what the
point to It
all
Still, to this day, I don't have the
the answer, my wife Helen ***
bless her soul had an illness
amongst many others that of a
fear of falling to sleep In case
she never woke
up
I'm glad to say I did not share that illness, what have Is the opposite
I fear falling asleep In case I wake
up to a world, I longer recognise or
really want too.
Never really ever been In love with this world, not how It's changed from when I
was a kid now Helen's gone even more so
rozina Nov 5
Nothing to see, nothing to do,
nothing to look forward to.

Observing others living life to their fullest,
and feeling as though you're the dullest.
The things you used to enjoy
slowly become a distant memory,
and you don't know how.

Existing slowly begins to feel a chore.

Wake up, go to work, stare at a screen,
go home, stare at yet another screen,
sleep, repeat.

Everything slowly begins to lose its
colour, as the world as you see it
slowly turns to shades of grey and
muted tones.

You don't feel yourself anymore,
the things you used to love become a chore,
to do them with love and passion again
suddenly feels like folklore,
where in the days of yore,
they didn't seem to be a chore.
Now they do,
and you don't know how to
make them not feel like they're a chore.
You slowly begin to lack emotion and
begin to wonder
if there even is any point in doing
anything anymore.

Contemplating the reasons for existence
becomes your most favourite past time.

Slowly, but surely, the pieces come
together, like coincidences, and the
realisation hits.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time, though for most, this isn't
always the case.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time and being ignored,
so you speak up even if you're shy,
not wanting to cry,
of living a life so dull and dry.

You slowly incline your head,
trying to resist the temptation of going to bed,
wishing you were dead.

You doodle during that extremely
boring meeting,
not caring if anyone bothers to judge
those silly little doodles.
You do them again,
out of habit,
slowly gaining your mojo and **** for life
back.

The upbeat songs come back,
so do the memories.

You embrace those,
and you don't let any old grump stop you,
because they should embrace them too.

Emotion is injected back into you again,
you tap your pen in quick succession,
to keep up with the rhythm of the song.

You gain a sense of flow,
you gradually begin to know that things
will turn out okay again.

Not immediately, but sooner or later.
You're no longer a dull hater,
life has just gotten one inch greater.

You don't think about heading to bed,
wishing you were dead,
because life seemed a dread.

You incline your head,
and observe your surroundings with
fresh eyes,
not uncontrollable silent cries!

You get the swing of things again.

The things you used to love are no longer
a chore,
the days of yore
where all that was just folklore,
was actually just folklore;
it's no longer a chore.

The emptiness is replaced with emotion,
the absurd sense of humour creeps back in.

Boom, you're your normal self again,
although you don't know what normal
actually is.
You no longer have a care in the world
about this normal that they all speak of.
For feeling empty
can just make you be another
faceless citizen,
blending in
with the rest.

You don't want that, do you?

You aspire to be the best,
with the feeling of being blessed,
and turning up in your best dressed,
without feeling the judgement at its best,
the anxiety goes to rest,
and you're at your best.

You skip happily,
while others walk with a blank expression.
You're the injection of colour
into the grey and glum world.
Others scorn at you for being different,
you happily embrace the fact
that you're that way.

Instead of wishing you were in bed,
thinking you'd rather be dead,
because life seems a dread,
you're ahead,
using your own head
whilst others are unknowingly spoon fed.

You're no longer a miserable person,
but one who stands out,
beaming,
others internally screaming,
hoping to convince others to do the same,
whilst trying to stay relatively sane
to avoid unwanted fame,
or worse, fearing the cane,
whilst also trying to stay in your lane
to avoid the blame
over something pretty lame,
like setting your old rickety computer up in flames,
because you felt like it
and didn't care one little bit.
It's not the shortest poem in the world, so brace yourself.
andromeda Nov 1
I spit words of disgust
To conceal my heart covered with rust.
I may be known as a bad mouthed *******,
but dear I am just being truthful.
Euphemisms? I’ve had enough of that.
I see no need of sugarcoating words
For it just washes brains, somewhat.
Insincerity built through words that are too easy to afford.
“I say words contrary to what I feel,”
Strength from pretentious lips.
It’s not what I feel for real,
but it prevents the red liquid and its drips.
So if you see me in the streets, smiling and
screaming at the top of my lungs that,
"I feel so alive!"
Honey, please consider the opposite.
Autmn T Oct 27
Cling tight, fear of falling, fear of flying, fear of being, and fear of leaving. I cant stay without wanting to leave and I cant leave without wanting to stay. You hold me and I push. You push and I cling. Always wanting what I cant have. Life calling for me and me clawing at it in response.
Seanathon Aug 31
It takes a quiet mind to sit and listen, to live this life slowly.

An insatiable appitie is an aggressive death, desire to express and to capture the expression wherever it stands.
As compared to. The opposite.
Lata Jan 2
you came to me,
with your dazzling smile,
but i knew,
you were so blue.

while i came to you,
everything became gray,
and then you knew,
i'm a darker shade than black ever be.
5th November 2017, 07:50ish pm
Aiden Aug 19
The day is bright and blue,
While the night hails the universes true view.

The sun, hailed as the giver of all life and the first true fire,
As the moon is considered all of deaths lyre.

While life is given power by the sun,
The moon is the cloak for all it's assassins.

As the sun is fiery and passionate,
Are moon is quite and loves maleficence.

As the day gives only the bare truth,
The night covers all that who are to sleuth

Sun and moon,
*** and Satan,
Earth and sky,
Truth and jive,
Life and death,
Fire and water,
Dusk and dawn
Diverting Martyrs


Two things that can explain everything,
The sun and moon are life’s most important worshippings
Lycanroc is pretty BOOLIN. So here's a poem that is all about a duet that they would sing in a church for other pokemon
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