There seems to be a problem,
A problem with humanity,
As it seems we have no sanity left,
Because surviving committed that theft long ago.

People have forgotten how to feel,
We have lost sight of what is real,
And no one is allowed an opinion anymore without repercussions.

It's as though we're in a drought of genuine people,
Humans who feel and talk about what is real.
**** your ideals,
I don't care "What appeals?"
All I care about is surviving,
Surviving on this rotting hell of a planet.

I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River

Its flow, mighty, powerful, turbulent
I make futile attempts to make my own way
But it's the forces of nature that determine my path
Pushing me, Pulling me at its whim
And yet I have this notion of Destiny
Of a greater calling
A belief or rather a hope for finding
the true purpose for my existence
Perhaps a twig would change the flow of a River
And Perhaps the whole story wouldn't sound as absurd as its pitiful summarization
Yet, nothing is more true, more tangible,
more persistent, more disheartening
than the fact that

I'm a tiny twig flowing in a River

a hazed stare holds my soul
a radiant smile laces her soft cheeks
long golden feathers sway,
blurring my vision

seeds nourished our reason  
our wings fluttered
for once, again i could fly
up high, i held her as much as i could
all so vivid then
fragmented memories lapse my mind
like dreams, some black and others white
cherished, the way they are
genuine, unbidden, & real

i wake up alone in my bed, yet i smile
for another dream to begin.


@memovithana