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"emotionlessly" poems
I used to fear what I could be some day How I was always locking emotions away My world view turning darker than gray Yet, while my heart was encaged My soul was enraged Revolted by the world I seen My spirit raged, fierce and mean Deserving of judgement, we the unclean I took everything I had not to Intervene
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Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 2:40 AM UTC
Emotionlessly Passionate
My mother tells me that we will Never be friends. Today I believe it. Love poisons our blood And familiarity kills conversation. I look at her emotionlessly So to block her influence. She is an expert at exploiting The slightest ****** waver, Or any emotional advantage she Could have over you. She will make you wrong Through verbal martyrdom. I won't let her speak to me Like she does the weak who Are too polite or too submissive To fight her. Her style of English is cutting, Self-righteous, honest, rude, unscientific, emotional, aggressive and often violent. Never elegant. She thinks the world is a battleground. She is often incompetent and on top of that headstrong - to compensate for her ignorance. She is sometimes funny, and sometimes kind. She tells me we will never be friends. Today I believe it. I will not confide. I will not smile. I will not joke, I will not listen. I will help but I won't speak. I will keep the talk small. We will never be friends.
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
We will never be friends
Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief. The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation, Only lies. Harbingers are callow cries Marked by the change of season Or waning of the moon, Take your pick, Pick the scabs That flake away, Like the broken air vents scratching your room Noiselessly. Blame the airwaves for failure, Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample Of blood you donated to a lost cause, A ship without a sailor Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue.   Your blue Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly, Evoking commitment devotionlessly. My intention, apparent and there Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare. A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands, Like the hands of a clock Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock Before the neglected and battered boat Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock Of seagulls Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock, Waiting for the incoming tide Relying on your "sick and pale" Grieving orbital That refuses to abide By the laws of science, set So stubbornly, Setting itself for denial, Demands that will never again be met, A decision thought out without precision, Finality embodied through Hands waving away. Those cleansing waves indicating disarray... Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.
0
Dec 26, 2010
Dec 26, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
Luna(tic)
Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief. The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation, Only lies. Harbingers are callow cries Marked by the change of season Or waning of the moon, Take your pick, Pick the scabs That flake away, Like the broken air vents scratching your room Noiselessly. Blame the airwaves for failure, Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample Of blood you donated to a lost cause, A ship without a sailor Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue.   Your blue Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly, Evoking commitment devotionlessly. My intention, apparent and there Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare. A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands, Like the hands of a clock Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock Before the neglected and battered boat Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock Of seagulls Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock, Waiting for the incoming tide Relying on your "sick and pale" Grieving orbital That refuses to abide By the laws of science, set So stubbornly, Setting itself for denial, Demands that will never again be met, A decision thought out without precision, Finality embodied through Hands waving away. Those cleansing waves indicating disarray... Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.
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44
Forgotten memories swill into happy minutes, White, red, white, red, red, Wine is good for your heart, Though it drives the blood right to the walls of my mind, Leaves me on stilts. Wine and a bath, Like you ran me once, Smiling through your teeth. Wine is fine. Spicy. Oak on the nose. The ache in my jaw deep now, like a shot of adrenaline, on the cold street holding a phone to my ear as you speak emotionlessly: ‘I can't’ Swill it. Earthy and dark. The ache so deep now the blood has made it to my teeth. Tip the glass high. That last drip fills the space. Another glass. Just one more.
0
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
Wine
I am exhausted of feeling exhausted. I am emotionlessly emotional. I am hopelessly hopeful. I am sitting still at 1000mph.
0
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
0mph
*white knuckled pallbearers for open handed corpses silent as the pastor emotionlessly reads the rehearsed eulogy i learn that funerals were never meant for the dead they were always meant for those left alive because you haven't truly lived until you've died inside* [holyoak]
0
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
I Just Want To Sell Out My Funeral
I miss you You're not missing me I missed you before you left You may have missed me for a day or two I miss they way we'd ride around in your car and stare at the stars I miss how you used to hold the door open for me I miss how whenever we sat down no matter who was in the room, you sat so close to me when your arm around me tight I miss the way it felt to lay on your chest at night I miss the way we laughed when we woke up to the other one just staring waiting I miss the way you used to look into my eyes and the whole world disappeared I miss when you wanted me around all the time I miss when no one could make me doubt you I miss the way we used to sit on the couch in "our" house and watch movies , with the puppy curled up besides us I miss meeting you at work on your lunch breaks I miss knowing I was the only one who made you smile I miss being the only one you called "mine" I miss the days when I trusted you weren't texting someone else I miss when I trusted you with my life I miss that sparkle in your eye I miss how you face lite up when you saw me and we'd both be awkward for a moment or two I miss that my acceptance used to be enough I miss that I used to be enough I miss how you used to hold me and wipe my eyes when I cried I miss that I missed the moment things began changing I miss that instead of asking less questions, I just tried to get you to look at me how you used to I miss the fact that I never knew how serious our problems were I miss the way I could talk to you like no one else I miss the day before it all came to head I don't miss listening to you telling me goodbye and standing emotionlessly I don't miss how unaffected you seemed by my tears I don't miss frantically trying to get a hold of you and you ignoring me the whole time I don't miss you're excuses I don't miss watching you lie right to my face I don't miss that you just thought another guy would erase you from my heart I don't miss how you're such a hypocrite and in the same sentence would beg me to stay in your life I don't miss all the random moments I burst into tears simply because you weren't there I don't miss every night I knew you were with her I don't miss how when the sun came up the next day, you were at my door again I don't miss how I always let you in, and how I clung to every moment with you I don't miss the involuteery see saw ride you put me on while you tried to make up your mind I don't miss all those hours I prayed you'd come back to me I don't miss how when I would snap and tell you to **** off" I'd cave the second you text my phone I miss the vacations we took together I don't miss the way you seemed to have just forgotten I miss how you were always getting mad at me for letting people walk all over me I don't miss how you became one of them I miss how every time you came around, no other guy could touch me or how you'd put your legs across me to mark your territory I don't miss how when I did that, you still saw her I miss when I thought you were so different than every other guy I don't miss realizing you weren't I miss how hard it was for you to tell me goodbye and that you had tears in your eyes too I don't miss that just because she had more money she got to be the one to come visit you I miss the phone calls every week I don't miss when she moved in and they stopped I miss how I never saw this coming I don't miss that in your mind I'll always be here waiting I miss you
0
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Missed
I miss you You're not missing me I missed you before you left You may have missed me for a day or two I miss they way we'd ride around in your car and stare at the stars I miss how you used to hold the door open for me I miss how whenever we sat down no matter who was in the room, you sat so close to me when your arm around me tight I miss the way it felt to lay on your chest at night I miss the way we laughed when we woke up to the other one just staring waiting I miss the way you used to look into my eyes and the whole world disappeared I miss when you wanted me around all the time I miss when no one could make me doubt you I miss the way we used to sit on the couch in "our" house and watch movies , with the puppy curled up besides us I miss meeting you at work on your lunch breaks I miss knowing I was the only one who made you smile I miss being the only one you called "mine" I miss the days when I trusted you weren't texting someone else I miss when I trusted you with my life I miss that sparkle in your eye I miss how you face lite up when you saw me and we'd both be awkward for a moment or two I miss that my acceptance used to be enough I miss that I used to be enough I miss how you used to hold me and wipe my eyes when I cried I miss that I missed the moment things began changing I miss that instead of asking less questions, I just tried to get you to look at me how you used to I miss the fact that I never knew how serious our problems were I miss the way I could talk to you like no one else I miss the day before it all came to head I don't miss listening to you telling me goodbye and standing emotionlessly I don't miss how unaffected you seemed by my tears I don't miss frantically trying to get a hold of you and you ignoring me the whole time I don't miss you're excuses I don't miss watching you lie right to my face I don't miss that you just thought another guy would erase you from my heart I don't miss how you're such a hypocrite and in the same sentence would beg me to stay in your life I don't miss all the random moments I burst into tears simply because you weren't there I don't miss every night I knew you were with her I don't miss how when the sun came up the next day, you were at my door again I don't miss how I always let you in, and how I clung to every moment with you I don't miss the involuteery see saw ride you put me on while you tried to make up your mind I don't miss all those hours I prayed you'd come back to me I don't miss how when I would snap and tell you to **** off" I'd cave the second you text my phone I miss the vacations we took together I don't miss the way you seemed to have just forgotten I miss how you were always getting mad at me for letting people walk all over me I don't miss how you became one of them I miss how every time you came around, no other guy could touch me or how you'd put your legs across me to mark your territory I don't miss how when I did that, you still saw her I miss when I thought you were so different than every other guy I don't miss realizing you weren't I miss how hard it was for you to tell me goodbye and that you had tears in your eyes too I don't miss that just because she had more money she got to be the one to come visit you I miss the phone calls every week I don't miss when she moved in and they stopped I miss how I never saw this coming I don't miss that in your mind I'll always be here waiting I miss you
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58
Here's some clay I molded well And a note that's straight from hell It just says "Live" and when I drop it This gollum will wake up He'll follow close my every order Never teeter on the border Of sentient thought because I own him and he doesn't think at all This gollum'll do the ***** deeds Like taking out the ***** weeds That filter through society The people-poison of the earth He'll invade your home as you did my mind He'll make you leave the world behind He'll take your head into his hand And smash it down unto the land As if to say, "Please taste the earth, Substance of your death and of my birth" The cyclic theory present now He'll show you how to die And when he's done and you are through When my gollum's finished you He'll emotionlessly tear through your guts And with them, drag you through the street Sleep tight, doll
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
I'm building a gollum to take you out of your house and drag you by your entrails through the street
we could disapprove so heartily of everyone around us, so unfamiliar with the abyss that they were always touching, they were the emptiness, all ugly laughs at things they didn’t understand. they were the people under sway, patriotic as they were to hate the countries with no names and not comprehend all the beauty that flows from chaos. no books in neutral colors would ever touch their hands or bruise their minds. and music becomes noise when sung so loudly and emotionlessly, if you don’t know what you’re saying half the time. i found the city to be a cornucopia, a cacophony even of dial tones and rushing fingers, busy yellows and belts up around the iron lungs. the lights would only alternate, never seem to concede the stars their share of night. and clothes were only to hold in the edges of people and their problems that they had to share in the form of made-up dreams, the communist manifesto of personality problems and narcissistic smiles. i’ve moved from place to place, looking for something quiet, but the flow of time could only grow louder, and absence hasn’t made my heart grow the weeds of unwanted fondness, but sometimes i just can’t bring myself to even care.
0
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 1:49 PM UTC
pre(hyper)tension
Something about the cold. Always makes me feel alive. Even when otherwise, I am dead inside. Oh somewhere in the chill, Is a will that hits the air, A subtle sweetness, a fair dream resounding here. In my mind... Blank spaces fill the gaps, oh the universe is infinite, and nothing, withing my synapses. Hiding here, the greater fears, of many people, many cultures, many wordless wonders, the newborns eyes look up, blankly, oh yes, the void, waiting, patiently, calmly, emotionlessly, just destiny. Hungry. Ever fed, ever full, every growing, ever receding, cycling, spasming, living, dying. All truth, all lie. All residing in here, The darkest corners of my mind... And then the cool breeze comes in, Softly, sweetly, laying on, those silly electrical currents upon, nothing really exists anon. Neither here nor there, now nor later, just ok. Just fine. I feel less like Legion and more like one. And it feels good. I feel, alive.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
Feeling alive
The coffee grows cold on my desk                                                              (maybe if I leave it there                                                                  long enough, it will                                                                            evaporate). Brush strokes fill my mind, thoughts fill the canvas the Vision translates itself.                                                                                                                                                   You bite your lips                                                                                                                                                          to tease me…                                                                                                                                                   Can red do justice                                                                                                                                                       to the cruelty of                                                                                                                                                            your words? You stare emotionlessly into space… Can blue capture the coldness in your eyes?                                                                              You twist your curls                                                                                    michieviously…                                                                                  Will black signify                                                                                  The darkness of                                                                                      your soul?                                                                              It is my magnum opus. - Vijayalakshmi.R. Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 5:40 AM UTC
Studio
The coffee grows cold on my desk                                                              (maybe if I leave it there                                                                  long enough, it will                                                                            evaporate). Brush strokes fill my mind, thoughts fill the canvas the Vision translates itself.                                                                                                                                                   You bite your lips                                                                                                                                                          to tease me…                                                                                                                                                   Can red do justice                                                                                                                                                       to the cruelty of                                                                                                                                                            your words? You stare emotionlessly into space… Can blue capture the coldness in your eyes?                                                                              You twist your curls                                                                                    michieviously…                                                                                  Will black signify                                                                                  The darkness of                                                                                      your soul?                                                                              It is my magnum opus. - Vijayalakshmi.R. Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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28
Addicted to his sent And the feeling of a heart beating Next to yours at night In exchange with putting up With whatever he feels suits you Reducing you to tears Serving you a fright. Preying on you vulnerabilities You are like putty in his hands He twists the key in your back forcefully You entertain his every command. Consumed by his own fears And jealousy Convincing his self that to your life He has the right. You take what he deals you Emotionlessly Just for a beat of a heart Next to yours at night.
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Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 9:49 AM UTC
Clockwork
Three teens sit in a lightless room. The **** smoke mixes with the incense, And births a pungent smell. The television flashes in the dark. They stare blankly into its screen, afraid to think. No exchange of words, after all what would they say? "Hey buddy! How many times have you wanted to end it this week?!" Or maybe, "Hi Pal! Could you spare a Xanax?" These are the suicide kids; life means nothing to them. They wander emotionlessly through school hallways And work minimum wage jobs with displeasure. They don't smoke for fun, they smoke to numb. The prospect of death is comforting to them. Maybe then they could be alone without demons running rampant. So they sit amongst each other in lifeless rooms. With lifeless people, in lifeless towns. To them, Suicide is like a passing wind. Not even a seconds thought for their rotting peers, They understand. They know this life is heavy., And sometimes one just can't take the weight. So they make it end. With pills and bullets. With Ropes and razors. They make it end. Soon they'll have to pick a career and start a "life." They chuckle sorrowfully at this prospect, What life will find them here in this shattered country? The heat is rising and they KNOW it. The water is drying and they KNOW it. The trees are dying and they KNOW it. They're slaves. And they KNOW it. It is this knowing that brings them their pain And brings along thoughts of nooses and slashed wrists. One of them turns to the other and says "Yo pass me the **** man." He slides the glass across the table in front of them. Careful not to make eye contact, That might spark conversation. The incense smoke twirls in the air. The TV flickers, and day turns to night. The youngest of the three teens says farewell and walks home glumly, A noose awaits him.
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
The Suicde Kids
Three teens sit in a lightless room. The **** smoke mixes with the incense, And births a pungent smell. The television flashes in the dark. They stare blankly into its screen, afraid to think. No exchange of words, after all what would they say? "Hey buddy! How many times have you wanted to end it this week?!" Or maybe, "Hi Pal! Could you spare a Xanax?" These are the suicide kids; life means nothing to them. They wander emotionlessly through school hallways And work minimum wage jobs with displeasure. They don't smoke for fun, they smoke to numb. The prospect of death is comforting to them. Maybe then they could be alone without demons running rampant. So they sit amongst each other in lifeless rooms. With lifeless people, in lifeless towns. To them, Suicide is like a passing wind. Not even a seconds thought for their rotting peers, They understand. They know this life is heavy., And sometimes one just can't take the weight. So they make it end. With pills and bullets. With Ropes and razors. They make it end. Soon they'll have to pick a career and start a "life." They chuckle sorrowfully at this prospect, What life will find them here in this shattered country? The heat is rising and they KNOW it. The water is drying and they KNOW it. The trees are dying and they KNOW it. They're slaves. And they KNOW it. It is this knowing that brings them their pain And brings along thoughts of nooses and slashed wrists. One of them turns to the other and says "Yo pass me the **** man." He slides the glass across the table in front of them. Careful not to make eye contact, That might spark conversation. The incense smoke twirls in the air. The TV flickers, and day turns to night. The youngest of the three teens says farewell and walks home glumly, A noose awaits him.
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38
The leaves of a vine, always together Inseparable, closer than ever Flowers of memories blooming bright Lively and joyous Two little doves taking flight With the help of each other They roamed the skies Snow white cloud's gentle greetings The leaves of the trees waved back Deep in the forests, something changed Tigers growl, birds don't sing A burning sensation heated the jungle Spreading to every tree Burning every vine The flowers that once bloomed were now black and withered Doves of the sky went their separate ways To save themselves Without a goodbye or take care Clouds darkened, hovering emotionlessly The leaves rustled with annoyance This is the end
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Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
This is the end
The man without someone to talk to is, without a doubt, left out You want to shout and your lips pout because you're the odd man out! You want to challenge everyone to a bout; to take their spot - to be part of the crowd but you're still cut! So, I'll wait right here until the boredom kills and you feel the urge to talk to me Awkward silence fills the air, liked stacked up bills you still haven't paid yet! You know it's there but you don't care and wouldn't even dare to try and talk to me And I'm afraid you only would on a bet. Let your paper missiles fly across the air as you try to hit my crying eyes - That are in disguise as white tinted windows staring emotionlessly at the sky Let my vulnerable naïveté taste the touch of cold steel. As long as you give me attention it's okay, it would heal. You don't know the loneliness that being unmemorable brings! The way it stings as they fling those sharp notes that sing in your ear 'you are not worth remembering' You are not someone worth fighting for, worth settling a score, worth dying for So they slam the door to your face and leave you alone in the cold lonely fjord. The deep push of angry slurs to your head blurs your idea of humanity And it stirs the notions of being different and loneliness hard, hard that they turn into synonyms Which makes you cling to the idea that your very being is frowned upon by everyone Even your own family. The constant blame and shame that they force you to claim under your name Puts a stain in your heart which gives you fame in the game that is life! It is a painful sport, that game of life. Yet you strive —strive to separate yourself from the infamy that was given to you since the beginning of your time. You often find yourself paying fine for a crime that you did not commit There is a raging fire within your cold beating heart and you feel it. Every morning you tell yourself you are not a monster but a knight in worn down armor from battles past And every night you tell yourself that the last insult you heard today will be the last. Yes, I keep telling myself that.
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Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Keep Telling Yourself That
The man without someone to talk to is, without a doubt, left out You want to shout and your lips pout because you're the odd man out! You want to challenge everyone to a bout; to take their spot - to be part of the crowd but you're still cut! So, I'll wait right here until the boredom kills and you feel the urge to talk to me Awkward silence fills the air, liked stacked up bills you still haven't paid yet! You know it's there but you don't care and wouldn't even dare to try and talk to me And I'm afraid you only would on a bet. Let your paper missiles fly across the air as you try to hit my crying eyes - That are in disguise as white tinted windows staring emotionlessly at the sky Let my vulnerable naïveté taste the touch of cold steel. As long as you give me attention it's okay, it would heal. You don't know the loneliness that being unmemorable brings! The way it stings as they fling those sharp notes that sing in your ear 'you are not worth remembering' You are not someone worth fighting for, worth settling a score, worth dying for So they slam the door to your face and leave you alone in the cold lonely fjord. The deep push of angry slurs to your head blurs your idea of humanity And it stirs the notions of being different and loneliness hard, hard that they turn into synonyms Which makes you cling to the idea that your very being is frowned upon by everyone Even your own family. The constant blame and shame that they force you to claim under your name Puts a stain in your heart which gives you fame in the game that is life! It is a painful sport, that game of life. Yet you strive —strive to separate yourself from the infamy that was given to you since the beginning of your time. You often find yourself paying fine for a crime that you did not commit There is a raging fire within your cold beating heart and you feel it. Every morning you tell yourself you are not a monster but a knight in worn down armor from battles past And every night you tell yourself that the last insult you heard today will be the last. Yes, I keep telling myself that.
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29
I need you far away from me I want love as vibrant as can be I need a shelter from the storm I want a set of arms to keep me warm Not yours, No, not yours I tried my best to please you But you still shoot your words like bullets Isn't that true You shoot me in the heart But that was only the start You shoot my pride You made me want to run and hide You shoot me in the head Just with the simple words you said You shoot me to end it all But never let me take that final fall You mistreated me over and over You abuse me time and again Your words hit like a stone to glass Yet your fists stayed quiet like a student in class You butcher me Motionlessly You ended me So emotionlessly I took all the of the abuse I let you hit me for the simplest of bad news You hit me with your words Yes you did !! "Stop!" I would shout every once in a while "Stop please, I don’t want to fight!" And you’d just smile You made me think there was light But that’s when the belt left your waistline That’s when you said I had to pay my outdated fine My fee for standing up My fee for even looking up My fee for trying to be free My fee for attempting to flee So I felt the sting across my back I felt the buckle that made contact I felt the whips, as my soul left me I felt myself take my last breath while he chocked me. - E. A. F
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
Fee
In every class, Every place, There is a child that's oddly quiet. As the child grows up, they begin to change, Growing more and more distant from reality. They sit there emotionlessly, Living their dream life in their own universe. It's quite sad others can't see it. Sometimes, imagination dissapears along with childhood innocence. A child that can't play is no longer a child. Some children are smarter than adults That's why people belittle them. They can't stand the thought of someone being superior to them. Be a child as long as you can. You'll regret it if you don't.
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Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 4:02 PM UTC
Quiet kid
Silence in my head, silence in my mind, Is this peace, or is this calm? Or maybe, Desolation. No longer can I feel my skin against the breathing air, nor the numbing sour of my muscles. No longer can I feel the delight of gluttony, nor the dark smudge of exasperation. Cramp in the back, yet I lie there unmoving, staring emotionlessly into the monitor screen. Breaking news no longer stir my interest, nor videos, shows, comics, nor games. Hunger in my empty stomach, yet no appetite is present, I should eat some food, I mind suggested, yet, my body dissent. Threads of thoughts struggle to weave, exploding in every direction. Yet strangely, sooner or later they'll always end up in the same destination. why can't I forget the past, to look forward to the future? I wish to have no more regrets, yet it the past haunts me. The time I did something inconsequential, the time I did something unimportant, the time I did something that affects nobody, yet I did something that deeply disturbs me. Heavy eyelids shuts and close, yet I don't feel drowsy, sluggish in the dim lights, I thought, and thought, and thought. Plans I have, many of them, yet nothing I have done, whilst I rot here thinking, not having any fun. Engrossed of all the people better than I, my eyes dulled, and my heart closed. my motivation has long exhausted, and my spirits are long lost. ?????why do I even exist, only to suffer my own mediocrity????? why can't I be better? I ask myself everyday, but secretly, I indeed know the answer. it's all my fault, my very own, there's no excuse, this is what I chose, Procrastination, lazing, cheating, stupidity, sloth, greed, feigned ignorance, bare minimum, prejudice, pride, arrogance, addiction, lust, hatred, and envy. why do I possess all these things, why am I just a bag of sins? If this is all I have then there's no redemption guess this world would be better without me. But I mustn't give up yet, there's still to fight, there's expectations, the chains constrain me tight. I'm bound here, scared, and unable to give up... is this really what my family wanted of me? I want to become stronger, better, smarter, and nicer, a brand new me that I can be proud of, A me that will look back to 10 years past and say "I'm glad I stepped up and changed". But to become that me is not my business, because I know I never can. the me I know is not proactive, nor preeminent he is useless, cowardly, lethargic, and poignant, he will try, he will struggle, he may or may not attempt, but in the end he will not put up any actions. Because he has given up. He will only hope for a better tomorrow. and then, he'll wish he have died.
0
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
Thoughts
Silence in my head, silence in my mind, Is this peace, or is this calm? Or maybe, Desolation. No longer can I feel my skin against the breathing air, nor the numbing sour of my muscles. No longer can I feel the delight of gluttony, nor the dark smudge of exasperation. Cramp in the back, yet I lie there unmoving, staring emotionlessly into the monitor screen. Breaking news no longer stir my interest, nor videos, shows, comics, nor games. Hunger in my empty stomach, yet no appetite is present, I should eat some food, I mind suggested, yet, my body dissent. Threads of thoughts struggle to weave, exploding in every direction. Yet strangely, sooner or later they'll always end up in the same destination. why can't I forget the past, to look forward to the future? I wish to have no more regrets, yet it the past haunts me. The time I did something inconsequential, the time I did something unimportant, the time I did something that affects nobody, yet I did something that deeply disturbs me. Heavy eyelids shuts and close, yet I don't feel drowsy, sluggish in the dim lights, I thought, and thought, and thought. Plans I have, many of them, yet nothing I have done, whilst I rot here thinking, not having any fun. Engrossed of all the people better than I, my eyes dulled, and my heart closed. my motivation has long exhausted, and my spirits are long lost. ?????why do I even exist, only to suffer my own mediocrity????? why can't I be better? I ask myself everyday, but secretly, I indeed know the answer. it's all my fault, my very own, there's no excuse, this is what I chose, Procrastination, lazing, cheating, stupidity, sloth, greed, feigned ignorance, bare minimum, prejudice, pride, arrogance, addiction, lust, hatred, and envy. why do I possess all these things, why am I just a bag of sins? If this is all I have then there's no redemption guess this world would be better without me. But I mustn't give up yet, there's still to fight, there's expectations, the chains constrain me tight. I'm bound here, scared, and unable to give up... is this really what my family wanted of me? I want to become stronger, better, smarter, and nicer, a brand new me that I can be proud of, A me that will look back to 10 years past and say "I'm glad I stepped up and changed". But to become that me is not my business, because I know I never can. the me I know is not proactive, nor preeminent he is useless, cowardly, lethargic, and poignant, he will try, he will struggle, he may or may not attempt, but in the end he will not put up any actions. Because he has given up. He will only hope for a better tomorrow. and then, he'll wish he have died.
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