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Another Soporific Allegory
Ludicrous men, of crazed ravings.
Seeking a mask of gold so grandiose
Exuding brilliance, they suffocate in normalcy.
Too many hours on words held transient,
hysterical mothers, so tangible.
Futility makes some wallow in solitude.
Yet for the intelligent,
it is the only source of happiness.
Lush lexical choices
of men who fear going unnoticed.
Seeking persona in Plato's cave.
The allegory of a dark room horrifies.
You claim to be misunderstood,
yet your trodden words are soporific.
I think what I ask of you is this:
Stop writing shit poetry
To cope with your lack of identity.
If I Did Not
write poetry, identiy would be hard to find. Still, living has its perks. Breathing, for example. (I'm 68ish going on 105ish). Intersting write - just had to bring up the cave huh? :D slc
Dark, mysterious and
Dark, mysterious and self-deprecating.
Beautiful