#shorter
Inside the insane asylum,
That I go to five days a week.
Straightjacket tight,
I can barely breathe.
Listening to all the inmates,
Contemplating all their mistakes,
I can’t even sleep.
They continuously repeat,
The same lines over and over again.
When is my reprieve?
Better be soon, before my mind turns to a ruin.
“Blah, blah, blah.”
That’s all I hear.
Their voices, drowning out,
Every other peaceful sound.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah.”
I feel the blood flow from my ears,
As I look to the ground,
And fade into the background.
Can’t believe I still have a couple years.
When I break free, will my fears control me?
Sometimes it feels like I’m surrounded by,
Sheep that would just follow the crowd,
Till they died.
Am I going crazy…?
Or is it just all hyperbole…?
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 3:42 PM UTC
Optimism can be,
Very much fulfilling, or,
Exhaustingly bland.
Pessimism makes a,
Darkened cloud cover up the,
Shining, blinding Sun.
Cynicism blurs the,
Line between friend or foe 'cause,
Everyone’s corrupt.
Altruism means that,
I should help others without,
Pondering the cost.
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 12:37 PM UTC
Why bother?
It can be longer or shorter.
It doesn't matter.
A poem is a mirror
Reflecting someone's heart.
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 8:20 PM UTC
The noose tightens
Day by day
And gradually my breaths
Get shorter and shorter
The noose tightens
Hour by hour
Until one day
My hands wrap real rope
Around my neck
And the once invisible
Takes true form
Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 3:39 PM UTC