PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What becomes of that lingering pensivity,

That is bottled yet finds no release?

Perhaps the darkest hours of thought

Is no longer merely captivity.

Yet such times bring a shadow to the daylight

And with it, discomfort and frought

Predictions of tidings damning. 

Hope and hope with all you know

That there is a morsel of resilience within you.

For those heavy masks of normality

Are whittling away at a sanity thin. 

But why must it be within one,

And why is it always so?

Why must this recurrence shred

The fabric of what is below. 

I wish no reprieve from the curses of living

For it is a blessing after all, is it not?

I merely hope for the power to not curse myself

In the process of despising the world around mine.