#unguided
How do you hear the whisper of life
My life has never whispered to me
Your life's a fun adventure, you say
Yet all I see is pain strewn along my lane
Am I treading the right path, or am I lost?
How long has it been since I swayed away?
I cannot tell the time; it's night always
Has the sun forgotten it needs to shine upon my path as well?
I see a glimmer, a shining something
Never mind, I blinked, and it vanished again
It’s like a faded dream, naught but shades of grey
For so long, I've been pacing this way
My feet hurt, but I cannot stop
I must find a safe haven first
All these thorns scattered along my way
How is it fair, when it pierces whether I stand still or break away?
It feels as if a ***** joke is being played on me
Unguided, I’m led to grasp a rope that isn’t there
Stop, walk, or run I may, on this uncharted land
In vain, I am laboured to bleed for a dead end
How do you hear the melody of life?
My life has never hummed to me
I've lost the rhythm of life
Now it's just me and the noise I make, all the life's notes,
long burned away
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 10:22 PM UTC
I have no guidence.
Searched on every summit
for some lost elusive cure,
and for the alchemy to make
me feel like I was pure.
Violently, I've torn through
the marrow of all I am,
begging every single deity
I've known for their hand.
I have no peace.
Maybe healing will never surface,
Maybe muffled by the sand.
A doctrine for the hopeful,
Who will never understand.
Wounds have always held
Daggers that were never removed.
What if pain protects the heart
Because it never is renewed?
I have no harmony.
Singing broken hymns can birth
another's hymn of praise.
Unspoken cosmic laws that state
Examples must be made.
I am never truly broken,
I can wish to be in time,
But I remain a quantum sonnet,
That is void of any rhyme.
I have no exit.
Maybe there is grace that lives
Within my wilted plea.
In knowing, I'm exactly
Who I knew I'd always be.
In a life of pulling chains,
Tethered to a hopeless mind.
What is left within a soul,
To see a purpose that's divine,
Without the residue of ash
From embers charring bone?
Without emotions echoes,
That have turned it into stone.
The cold sweat of empathy
For the fellow misbegotten.
Or wihout the twitching nerves
Of a body that is rotten.
I have no dreams.
I cannot find belief in me
For false restoration.
No longer a beggar for
A hollowed-out salvation.
I walk with aching fractures
To a rapture born in rust.
A fate I feel deep in my core,
That all is made of dust.
I have no reasons.
What's the purpose
For this riddle I weave?
Is there truth in what remains,
Or is truth in what will leave?
As I stand, a withered body,
weeping now without a plea.
I am all I ever was,
All I've known I'd ever be.
I have no future.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 4:46 PM UTC