"unfavorable" poems
The fault of our reality is not written in our stars
And it will not dance across unfavorable constellations,
Or dissolve into inconsolable fragments.
The fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
But how fortunate would it be?
To cast the providence of our unlucky affairs
Into the gloomy twilight,
Where the sky is so unilluminated
That we could close our restful eyes
And fathom a world where it does not exist?
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
We are heavily folded sheets of stationary:
A collection of utterances
Bound into melancholy novels
By our mangled hearts,
And though spoken words
Still fall onto my turning pages
As tears do fall from my reddened cheeks,
I have yet to forget
The chapter you have left unwritten,
Because an unwritten chapter is one to be adorned:
It cannot end
For it does not exist.
And so we fumble through an amorous affliction,
Fabricated into a bittersweet infinity.
And at midnight,
When my restless fingers
***** the empty air for you,
And the reality of our desolate fault
Seeps into my hands,
I wish you were here.
But the fault, my love, is not written in our stars.
It is written in ourselves.
j.s.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
"bleed·ing heart"
a person considered to be dangerously softhearted
feeling sorry for everything and everyone and giving in to emotions quickly.
“My heart bled today.”
Nothing new, same old routine, same old unremarkable usual thing.
They say over and over, Repetition is key. The key for what, I may never know.
Things often moving quickly halt and take on the slow.
The same people, the same faces, the same air, the same places.
I’m a person with a bleeding heart.
It’s dangerous to lead a life like mine,
Sadly you can’t escape the family bloodline.
Constantly stuck in a place between the planes.
I can’t help what’s running wild, pumping through my veins.
No rest for me. The others are already gone.
My logic quickly left along with the dawn.
My bleeding heart might just be the death of me.
I would show you I am hurting but we can’t seem to agree
I am all alone surrounded by nothing but my own suffocating thoughts.
I can’t breathe and continue to find myself at a loss.
A new beginning. The strong will live, the weak will die.
It’s tattooed into the minds of the people in the city as a nearby excuse for people like me.
Yes, there are others, but they are far out of reach, conveniently unavailable.
The rest of us have been wiped out and deemed unfavorable.
What am I?
Just an unnoticed vessel of the human soul
and all of it’s dangerously soft-hearted mannerisms.
I have a bleeding heart. I do not deny.
Left alone for the beasts to tear apart.
But I cannot help but look to the sky.
I despise my nature, my being even,
Curse my benignant soul,
And my lack of self control
What’s left for me in this cruel world?
Run by unintellectual imbeciles running off their own flawed reasoning
A divergent past, lies in ruins which was once filled with memories and happy experiences,
I was once just a kid lost in her own place, drowning and begging for help but no one came.
Perhaps, I’m not as much of a person with a bleeding heart as I possibly could be.
Perhaps, the legacy I leave behind will be nothing but a life of running away.
Perhaps my bleeding heart only bleeds in contrast to the reality around me.
“Because it is mine, it will always bleed”.
I am stuck in this life of heartache and unwelcome spilled blood, but it will be alright.
Because I won’t give up, not until I succeed.
I will make it one day, even if there is no destination, I’ll go just to see the sights.
Bleeding heart and all, I will fight the war, not backing down, but disappearing at midnight.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
shallow creeper
blindly seeks
subterranean passage
horizontal
push and ******
fingered shoots
in compliant ground
purple sword
arcs skyward
a deception
yet to unfurl
gold to conceal
the tangle
underneath
perennation
in unfavorable
seasons
propagates
subversive
perpetual
regeneration
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
How we are like a snowflake each our own shape.
We’re all born pure, and land wherever the wind takes us.
Our destination is never for certain, for a cloud over a calm field,
May have flakes land in a distant fire,
Or fall to the concrete and get shoveled aside
Forgotten of their magic and stomped to ice.
Not you, the flake on the other side of the mountains,
The flake that is part of an aura of calmness and peace.
How we are like a snowflake each magical and full of potential.
Some turned to snowmen or formed to angels,
Others turn to ***** for a joyous fight,
Some flakes fall on mountain tops and remain up there for years,
Others fall to that same mountain and cause an avalanche.
Some fall to rivers and wash away and are never seen,
Not you, the flake that remains the same, that is untouched by time
And unscathed by hands and prints, needing no other form to remain beautiful.
Some flakes get walked all over turned hard and cold,
Unfavorable to be around and hurtful when one falls.
Other flakes are turned to homes providing shelter and comfort.
You’re that flake free and soft, still able to fly with the wind.
You’re that snowflake in the wilderness, the clean snowflake
Not covered in dirt, not marked, and not yet on top of the mountain,
But that snowflake that is full of so much potential and beauty.
Oh how we are like a snowflake, and how you’re brilliant among us all.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Adversity is one of the things we can’t escape in our lives; it is also one of the biggest hurdles that we must overcome for us to become better individuals. However, is this meant to be a negative, cynical assessment of what we must look forward to? The answer to this question is no. There are several effects that adversity can bring to our overall being, it can be either positive or negative depending on how you evaluate them in your perspective.
One of the best things about adversity is that it’s a forceful being that tears us away from our comfort zones. It is like a strong wind that brings us to the places that we want to go but with hesitance to do so, it also removes the things we have grown fond of but are holding us back from what we should be, leaving us to be in the best shape that we can ever become instead of just imagining it from afar.
Despite the best thing that we can get from adversity, it can also ******* us if we become too stuck in an unfavorable mindset wherein fear and pain comes to play. We think so much of the unknown that we forget that we have to move on, until when we do so, so much time has been wasted.
Adversity is like drowning in a river of neutrality; we drift to the currents of the same common thread and forget every bit of unique trait we have upon us, and while we face life like lost ravens drifting through the darkness, searching for traces of non-diminished skies, we find meaning in our lives as we find that small patch of white light at the end of every misery we have conquered.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
The reason there aren't so many vampyres
around these days is they don't like TV hype
and the intrusions of TV news crews. It transpires
that vampyres prefer late hours and like low light levels
because they're egregarious and don't like to be seen inebrious
in the middle of their heinous, intravenous revels.
Also, unfavorable reviews about transfusions
and the confusion caused by AIDS, at this juncture,
has definitely reduced the appeal of being seduced
by some crazed and gurgling Transylvanian
bloodsucker lusting to puncture the jugular,
or any other available vein again,
especially when you don't know if they've disinfected their fangs
or only licked them after draining their last victim.
After all, vampyres were brought up in castles
when there weren't antiseptics for gargles
and they haven't been taught prophylactic criteria
against such apocalyptic viral bacteria.
And if you've ever seen vampyres with condoms
on their teeth, you'll know what I mean.
It's a scream. Everyone finds them hilarious. It'd be easier
to die laughing than to go down with anemia.
Also, like everyone else, vampyres hate ridicule.
No-one likes being seen as the fool.
And the other reason vampyres are scarce now
is that there are so many genuine muggers, hoods, crims,
druggies, financial leeches, homicidal maniacs,
psychopathic liars and genocidal tendencies to conjure up real fears
out there, that there's not much room left for quaint old-fashioned vampyres, poor dears.
But do you know something? Even though they were naughty,
I miss their occasional **** I know it was gory,
but those kisses, oh boy. We got into the femoral artery inside the thigh. It was ***** But when AIDs came along,
that was it. Definitely bye-bye. Nobody wanted to die.
These are the facts.
So these vampyres were starving and they reverted to bats.
Did a midnight flit,
and that's the end of my story.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
We all flourish, where our roots are
Probably I’m a wild herb,
That makes a difference,
I flourish more if I am uprooted
I find life in the Air,
Less, under the Soil
As they are
I sync with the Air
If unfavorable, I never sync
Staying dormant
Ever after
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC
Water is so precious
I am so furious
But people are wasting
Nobody aware of scarcity
Just aware your society
Conserve the water
Being like a martyr
See the harm by the scarcity
Love the water save the society
Otherwise you will hanker
Torment for a drop of water
If the water then life
Otherwise life is like a knife
Just conserve it
Aware each one like knit
Water will save you
Otherwise unfavorable conditions
Face you
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
I've come to the conclusion
I am two parts of a whole
you may look at the glass half empty
or half full
sometimes it's really hard to tell
but call me a Gemini , if you will
behind closed doors
I'm either high
or low
one minute I'm soaring
& the next on the floor
one half of me
battles depression & anxiety
my thoughts are scattered inconsistently
my heart pounds in my chest
the minute you speak my name
just know I'm doing my best
trying not to go insane
other days I'm free
gliding thru the breeze
of my life
energetically speaking
the sun dances around me
against my face, glistening
but I seldom wonder
the thin wall that divides me
if I should ever sunder
two halves of a broken heart
searching for the glue that once held them part
Gemini's are twins
such like, good and evil
an angel and a demon
dancing on my shoulders
dragging me farther and farther away
so in the eyes of the beholder
I sense the middle becoming yet much colder
judgment is given on the evil side of me
I'm distant , I admit it
at times , fairly resistant
a poor trait one must receive
nothing more than a peeve
alas I did not select this trait
nor must I choose to accept it
my slump has taken its toll
I do not wish to see anything as it is but dull
I may be present and alive
yet inside, negatively drains my mind
I pray that good outweighs the unfavorable
that you may overlook how I'm unstable
my bright eyes & tinted cheeks
how I simply ignore my urge to be weak
for in that one moment
I've experienced a whole heartbeat
ultimately, there is no escaping
no path could lead me elsewhere away from thee
no debating
I am not one but two parts of a whole
one day I hope I am in control
Gemini
the twins
its me
& I am them
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
Start by hitting snooze
Twice for good measure
Leave the house just a few minutes later
Turning right into a jam
A thick, slow traffic jam
Viscous car molasses
But much less sweet
Sit there for a second
Simmering in sweat
Your blood begins to boil
Your hands begin to clench
Grip the steering wheel
Watch the clock tick time away
Curse your screeching alarm
Curse the convertible in front of you
Curse Monday mornings
Curse anything but yourself
Know that screaming at the cars
Won’t make that red turn green
But do it anyway
Honk your horn
Flash an unfavorable finger
To the vehicles doing the same to you
How is it rush hour
When everything is lagging
Your will to move is sagging
Roll your eyes at the radio
Wishing listeners a good morning
Oblivious to your mini meltdown
Once you can peel away
And break through that barrier
Sprint down that street
Swerving aggressively
Whip into the parking lot
Pretend your throat isn’t hoarse
And your knuckles aren’t white
Go about your day
Get excited for tomorrow morning
Tuesdays are better
Right?
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 11:18 PM UTC
I'm in you but you hide me
I'm freely own,I'm part of your life
You were born with me
I'm a balm of peace
I'm smile, I make the impossible possible.
l can heal the sick
I can heal a broken hearted
I'm a balm to a wound
I can make unfavorable situation favourable
I'm so Important in your life
I can also do the opposite
All depends on your application
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 12:29 AM UTC
Who am I?
I'm a messed up girl who tries way too hard.
I' m impulsive, moody, and really insecure.
I don't trust very easily, and I always think I'm about to lose someone.
I always see my flaws, and sometimes make them up.
I'll never think my stomach is small enough, or my smile is pretty enough, but I still manage to get one on my face.
I whine and complain, this is true.
Jealousy is my mortal enemy, along the few on my unfavorable list. Yes, I'm sure we all have a mental list of those who did us wrong.
I always want to make everyone happy, but I always think I'm just bothering them.
I'm shy underneath all these attempts to make you think otherwise. Being outgoing doesn't mean you're confident, and doesn't mean you're not shy.
I love with everything I've got.
When I fall, I fall hard, in a metaphorical and literal way. I'm quite a clumsy girl. Can't go a day without walking into some.
I'll make you angry, but I'll make you happy too.
You may want to just scream your head off at me, but I can also make you laugh.
Don't give up on me please, cause I'm still trying not to give up on myself.
I get really nervous at times. Full on panic attacks at others.
I'm extremely indecisive. I get distracted easily sometimes.
But I’m also a good listener, and will be here whenever advice is needed.
I hate being alone, afraid of it even. Sometimes I think it's fate though.
I’m rarely an open book, very hard to understand. I so badly wish to be understood though.
I’m scared of showing emotions, because experience has shown me they’re just no good to have.
In the end, I'm clearly imperfect.
But I'm working on it.
One day I might be strong
One day I may be graceful
One day I might just learn to breathe, let go and move on
One day I might not fear being alone so much, just because I know I can handle it
Yes I still hope someone will be there, by my side, someone who knows how much I've tried, changed and overcome.
Someday, I'd like to show you the girl I can be, instead of telling you about the girl I want to be.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
What is he like?
How does he dress?
What does he read?
The questions come flooding in like my feelings when I first saw him,
except instead of riding the wave,
I'm drowning in it.
Drowning in scrutinizing eyes,
curious mouth,
and women past their prime,
trying to live vicariously through me.
How old is he?
What's his major?
Where does he go to school?
A word of advice,
never start dating around the holidays,
you instantly become the center of attention.
There intentions are good,
but they hold my regard for them far to high.
Thinking, they can pass of fail the one I love like a school boy on an exam.
Thinking, they can void him like an unfavorable law.
Thinking, there opinion really matters to me.
Where is he from?
What does his parents do?
How long have you known him?
I humor them,
for these conversations can be fun sometimes,
I do love talking about him.
Though the questions are never ending,
as though we are in a ring,
and they are looking for an opening,
circling around me,
trying to find the week spot.
Interrogation me,
trying to make me crack,
for surely no boy can be so perfect.
Where does he work?
Does he watch sports?
What clubs is he in?
I do not understand why they feel so entitled to my life,
I do not understand when my happiness stopped being enough.
I do not understand when you became part of our relationship.
I love him,
and he loves me,
and everyone else will just have to live with that.
Approval be ******
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Catatonic inscriptions etches through my textile discernment
Insidious cycles of turmoil encased within a festering distress
Uncertainty obscures my comfort into a chaotic complacency
Transforming the subtle movement of thought and bewilderment
Through the re-occurring sequences of paranoia and my uneasy psychosis
Haunting the whole of this psyche and the mental state I've come to fancy
A tell-tale apprehension of merriment and contentment may be a dismal reality
All the while being obsessed with the unfavorable outcomes I conjure within
But, I can't get enough of the disarray that breeds within my frail skull
So distant from what I feel in the ecstasy of my self-selected normality
The meek proposal of sanity has little to hold against these crooked grins
As this chaotic thought process leaves rationality as a vague ideal to null
Expansive introspection has no limit to what is perceived as validity
And, to be enveloped in the ambiguity and delusion of fact is so enticing
We all know that we've all come to recognize the fabrication of our own truth
The futile attempts to obtain an immaculate conviction in pure solidity
Is so wondrously perfunctory and constant as the life that i'm living
That I dread the day of departure from this hysteric observance of aging youth
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
About twenty-nine thousand kids die everyday
And I wonder why I was blessed to grow up
Why did I get a chance to grow up,
In a roulette system of unfavorable odds
They let me have a life and tried to say
I should thank all my achievements to a god.
Don't take the little I earned
And say it wasn't mine to earn.
These days aren't all easy, the nights are a blur
I found the best friends in people who didn't know who they were
Growing up and forgetting to throw up their hands
Then defining themselves by jobs, they happened to land
**** Weren't we just kids, can you feel that?
Hold on a second, let me take you back.
Remember that time, back in Szumski's basement
We spent no time practicing, Mitch on drums, Clark on bass
I started singing, no stage, but it felt like a taste
Of what our lives would be like making it
Every wasted night, not a night felt wasted.
Not a night felt wasted. Remember?
Pretending we could skate and scooter
Even if as the summer's end kept coming sooner
We'd never admit we were doomed. To grow up.
We mostly split, seperate ways, that's how life plays
Speaking in tenses of old acquaintances, "I'm doing okay."
I wonder how often we really are okay when we speak that way.
A million thoughts a minute fly through my mind,
And if I'm being honest, sometimes, I just miss you guys.
In the past six years, I've felt like a failure, a champion,
A father, a loser, and all the others in between.
If growing up for you has been like it is for me
I'm sure you know exactly what I mean.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
The ocean isn't really beautiful.
Even Bukowski said so.
Stop treating things like they need to be
happy gooey and awesome.
In fact,
the happy gooey--or crunchy if it is preferable-- awesome,
isn't real because it
oozes alacrity
and therefore adds some sort of undeniable blandness,
like the way they add unfavorable GMOs in food,
to reality
that makes happy gooey awesome all the more not
perfect.
The sun isn't always magnificent is it?
There will be bad days,
where
people are strange
and do strange things
that you will not understand
and you will do strange things
where people will never understand
or when **** just starts to fall apart
like life lacks forward momentum
and nihilism runs rampant in your lungs.
But it's not always night is it?
And then there will be normal days
when this place seems to let you breathe for awhile,
inhaling and exhaling
filing up those voids of the "bad days"
and the "good days",
allowing you to enjoy the small pleasures of this
world.
Allowing you to fit
and conform
into boundaries of your own
self-made contentment,
ultimately restricting you
into your self-made hole
with you and your conquered beliefs over the years
from good situations or bad situations
or situations in between.
But
and don't mind me for taking that long to reach
a small point
the entire universe isn't that small is it?
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
the ship has sailed
it has been met
with unfavorable conditions
and it has sunk
scarred ruins scattered
about the floor of the ocean
wood & fabrics
fragile things
making a place
for scavengers to lay
and the world will keep turning
the waters will still completely
the oceans will evaporate
and an underwater grave
will be visible from space
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Unfinished
Emptiness a question enrobed in nothingness stillness cries across the void in its intolerable
State you stand the will wilts the eyes portray defeat and sorrow a searching longing is plainly evident
This powerful demanding current must be appeased chaos screams the idle continues his dreams
Faltering movements are all that is known a stationary seizure pervades the deadliest image an old
Amusement park dead and deserted a mocking sign proclaims thrills inside the torment rushes like
A stampeded herd it threatens sure death your own plaintive dead voice is heard in this arena of
Dispirited dashed hopes a mauling traumatized and once energetic hope filled spirit that trouble
Assailed Then fell back and then with the genius touch as you reeled it simply fell away your steps to
Recover Also ceased with the careless and deadliest words of all what is the point this has become your
Standard if titled in great black letters it would read lackluster lying in the dirt whipped defeated
Disgusted exiled in oblivions nowhere hope has had the first letter changed to D yes Dope in capital
Letters little do you Realize this is the very act of reconstruction the best military force in the world
Engages in this kind of training someone who has potential is the tried and true diamond in the rough a
Superior force is needed take the outward restraints off by reducing the individual to his base when you
Have destroyed the unfavorable elements then begin the renewing process that is clean and absent of
Impurities build with tried and true methods that produce heroes from fired kilns the blaze flared and a
New form emerges pure as refined brass but the man or woman is steeled into purity and honor and is
Made ready to pass into combats immortal glory whether it be military, business, or sacred duty of the
Church know this before just a nameless conflicted person little thought of will do exploits he will put
New building Blocks in societies ever increasing wall and maybe ultimately he will fulfill the words of
Jefferson and by blood sacrifice his patriotism will cause the tree of liberty to flourish because the call to
Fight for peace is never finished
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
A shield is carefully crafted,
Linking and weaving scars together to protect the bruised heart inside.
A shield is not a painted piece of polished protection.
A shield is the last resort, a desperate attempt to grip onto life,
Which is but a fragile skein of thread,
that quickly unravels and easily snaps in two.
The bruised heart is not hiding behind this armor.
A poor heart that has suffered at the abuse of the outside world,
Is simply trying to preserve itself from decaying.
If the battered heart is not secured behind its shield,
The deterioration of the muscle begins and the heart slowly fades away
In an revolting and repulsive death,
Unless the world is merciful and a spear is plunged through the heart
before it can succumb to a lethargic and dreadful death.
The heart avoids its fate,
Skirting around pain and skipping away from death.
Through as the shield of scars becomes lame and worn,
The poor heart begins to wonder,
Would death really be so unfavorable,
If death meant it wouldn't have to live like this anymore?
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
At night I feel like a widow
I lay next to a shadow with my head pressed between a pillow.
For real though. I can hear the heat rise up from down beneath low.
My eyes won't shut 'til the sun comes up shinin' through my window.
I'm settin' sail, unconcerned with how the wind blows.
Disconcerting notions rhythmically pound upon the ship's bow.
Concentrating on endless oceans of electrical impulse.
My legs shake as my muscles lull, unnerved by how the terrain's thrown.
How do the waves flow?
Hunger explodes out of my chest;
Exposing all of my rib bones.
A rabid pack of salty dogs engaged in acts I wouldn't condone.
A rancid sack of sewer rats nibble at success in foster family group homes.
You'll never be alone once you cop another copy;
Always accompanied by your own clones.
Which way did I go?
**** out all the unfavorable people through the peephole.
If it looks, smells, tastes and feels, then it must be really real.
Uh-OH! We've baked another batch, but keep the lids all sealed.
We don't know what will happen if the scent is caught by the bloodhound's ego.
Sound the alarm and stretch your arms late in the afternoon.
Pass the grind down the line from teeth, to beans, to time, to you.
Hunker down that anchor now, the deadline's almost due.
It seems the sea is the majority, but man, I'm sick of bein' blue.
I've discerned now how the waves roll.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
pain spreads like a pandemic, infecting even the kindest of us. sadness is a painful bruise evident on the surface of our skin. we wear emptiness like it is the latest fashion trend. the contagion spreads through our word; it reaches the depths of our hearts. during times like these, we ask God, "where are you?" only to be met with a cold silence. our own twenty-first century plague. we are the rats that carry the virus. the few of us appear who asymptomatic eventually succumb to the pathogen. we overdose on pills and drown ourselves in alcohol to escape pain only to learn that it is inexorable. our words are pernicious and our actions are even more so. we create a false image of unity in the light of unfavorable times, which seem to come more frequently than in the past. we hold each others hands and hold our own tongues hoping that submitting to our government will save us this time. we are wrong, but we choose again and again to hide from the perilous truth; we are not safe from each other or from ourselves. any detriment that we suffer is entirely deserving.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
At first glimpse,
I shudder,
there is something in your face,
I almost recognize,
It's different now,
More articulate,
your eyes have become hollow and vacant,
Without spirit,
Haunting and hopeless,
no longer being seen as bestowed by a diety,
lifeless,
No longer illuminating a disheartened world,
Seeing too many unfavorable aspects of life,
drawn,
the light which once poured,
nightfall surrounds,
not of ignorance,
but from experience,
the secrecy of these shadows,
the rendered soul,
cause me to visit the unwelcomeness,
that I have known,
twilight touches my face,
as I step away from the mirror,
promising never to return.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 6:19 AM UTC
I want to give up...
my problems are
way scarier than others,
I am everything, the center,
unfavorable situations
find me like a childhood friend,
Trouble trouble everywhere
No time to live,
If I live for some days
double trouble pursue me
to outlive,
I'm Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, King Lear
Shakespeare wrote my predicaments
six centuries earlier,
My birth was a tragedy,
I'm armored in 'hamartia', 'anagnorisis'
'peripeteia', and what not
searching my doom to
entertain few who paid to see me,
I have none neither unity of time,
or place or action,
I don't deserve this,
But
What should I do?
I have no means and measures or methods,
to raise my hand and say,
"Sir, this disgusts me, living like this doing
same task same time all day"
Count me absent since today,
I'm going never to come,
What a sick time this is,
everyone is hating everyone,
I hate everyone too,
why shouldn't I?
I'd one demand,
I want to study, but no one had money
to pay, neither family, nor state, or center,
I saw them investing in bricks and stones
I saw them collecting taxes,
But no one came,
I wanted to work no had work to offer.
So I am writing, venting off my anguish,
Okay so if you are here, I call you my confidant,
keep it a secret,
You know I am alone now
But I wasn't before, a girl I love but never
told her my feeling, why????
Yes, she is employed, she earns I do not,
I fear this, I search for work, not that
I need one, I crash on the footpath,
live on the discarded crumbs out
the big restaurant in my city,
I'm not invoking pity in you--
Argumentum ad Misericordiam--
stating just the fact sir,
I believe in "Less is MOre"
and indeed I have less and I am happy
but what troubles me is her,
Ah! it's not that easy, I've heard
they don't take seriously unemployed guys,
Yes, sir, I may be wrong, but I don't want to
take any chance,
Life is not a life sir without her,
You can judge this in the tone
after I started tak]lking about her.
I love her dearly,
But who doesn't sir?
when they are young,
Jun 29, 2022
Jun 29, 2022 at 5:34 PM UTC