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Sydney 5d
I wait
I sit and wait
Nothing
Nothing comes
Nothing goes
Empty and alone
I still wait
I still sit and wait
Still nothing
Still nothing comes
Still nothing goes
Still empty and alone
I sit here....
I      sit      here...
I                 sit               here...
Procrastinating
p
   r
     o
       c
         r
           a
             s
               t
                 i
                   n
                     a
                       t
                         i
                           n
                              g
until one day, I................................................................­.......................die
having done absolutely  N.   O.    T.    H.    I.    N.   G.
and I regret <dfihbadflhbfihrefbiuwfiuhfihifiufiwief> everything.






Wasting
Every
Minute
pretending to be busy instead of doing school work
Quinn Adaire Sep 15
The weird thing with boredom
Is that it always only occurs
When one has quite a lot
Of actual things things to do.

Like right now,
I am writing
Maybe getting a couple of likes
When I should be studying
So I don’t get a grade
That makes me go “Yikes!”

Like right now I feel deprived
Of things to do,
I think it’s cause one gets easily bored
With what’s right in front of you.
Because why not.
I kinda really don’t want to be,
But probably maybe should be,
Slightly considering possibly,
Going to work out in the gym.

I know I actually ought to be,
But sincerely don’t think should be,
Contemplating eventually thinking about,
Reading that book on my shelf.

I just don’t want to think to be,
Partially doubting I could be,
Theoretically almost clumsily,
Trying to somehow be myself.
Everyone has something they almost kinda don’t really somehow eventually might want to sometimes possibly do.
lake Jul 31
it's just another raincheck
just another delay
waiting for sunny days
it's just another raincheck
till the clouds go away
but they always seem to stay

how much longer can i wait
how much longer can you stay
another day is just another way
to say i'm not here today
missing out on what matters
just in case a storm gathers

i can't get out of here
until the weather's clear
an endless loop of waiting
being cooped up, delaying
nothing's ever changing
and it's still raining
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me (as idle laughter contorts my face)
that what could've filled me
I've neglected to death.

I sit alone quietly watching

An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.

NO no

I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.

The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as you dance to catch each in your mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.

Let's cut this short.

Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Good luck good luck good luck, remember you're a knife that just needs sharpening sometimes.
trivial shadows
the pain of unfulfilled dreams
haunt me like a ghost
Do not let the tongue be slow
Caught in the throat of pride
Say it now, "I love you so"
Before the urge has died

For many a man has walked away
And found upon return
Love's thread, once strong, has worn away
There's not another turn
izzn Jun 10
high and low,
where to go
every time I go
I go left
every time they go
they go right
. . . .
high and low,
how do I know
every time I try to run
I got outrun
by everyone
but every time they run
they have fun
. . . .
high and low,
when did it start to grow
this pit of pitch black
right behind my back
is this an act?
what do I lack?
. . . .
high and low
please tell me no
time ain't running slow
and I'm a slow-mo
but, let's do it again
high and low,
tomorrow
. . . .
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