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Dalliance For Who I Was
Same old kid
same useless limbs,
What am I working for?
What am I working toward?
A curse
A verse
A chord just keeps cutting in
I'm a young mind
Trapped In due time
Snarling and vicious,
Dragging bodies
Crashing parties
Passed out drunk
All alone in ditches,
We rage for a better day
But we won't find it
I'd stop time
But yet here I am
In the present, patient
Casually gliding through
The shitty moods in subway stations
The work force blinded
Forced to stay quite
And I'm reminded
To stay awake and stay sober
But by that remark alone
I'm all but bowled over
Into a cataclysmic state
Of choking on my own face
When it's offered to me
By an effigy for collective thinking,
I'm wrapping this world
In snake skin
Staying up late
To watch the next phase fade in
Cut to commericial
Cynicism
I am going now to look up that word. Hey Tennessee, l luv the pic!
It means distrust of other people's motives. Your poem is not cynical, it is portrait of a human snared by history, culture, architecture and structures inhabited habitually and boringly with dreams of a different freedom. I distrust my own motives all the time. Does that count?