Just a poem about the dreariness of life: A temporary feeling. |
I don’t know why I can’t cry. Please, don’t say that I’m heartless, that I have no feeling inside. I swear that I do—it’s just not coming through. This intense pain in my chest, it will go away, it always does, the way it did yesterday. I pushed her in the hallway, but I apologized, don’t worry; but she didn’t hear me, she was kind of in a hurry. It’s times like these that I want to close my eyes and sleep Forever, but the night is never long enough. My mind longs its dreamland, but my body is fully rested. An ignorant body that knows nothing of the pain that is engulfing my soul. It starts from the tips of my toes and works its way up into my ankles, sinking into my hips and slipping into my chest until my body is restless and black with frustration. But where can I go? What can I do? The days and nights are interchangeable; my heart is dark always. There is no “you” who came along To save me and take me by The hand and tell me that everything’s gonna be Alright. Not tonight. I have been searching my whole life. I swear it. But my efforts bear no fruit. My harvest is empty, I have no fields to reap, and no more seeds to sow. They never did grow. The nothingness stood so sweet against those fields of imaginary bloom. No one is ever Happy. I promise that no one is ever in a state of everlasting joy. There is no such thing, but there is sadness and pain and heartache and body ache and fear. I know that I think, therefore I am, but I also hurt, therefore I am A human being. |