Poem On A Whim [Long]

Discussion in 'I Have a Question...' started by Airplanepeanuts, Apr 30, 2007.

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  1. It's an endless cycle that we're all trapped in
    Trying to untangle impossible knots
    Hoping that at the end of the road
    We'll discover something.

    In silent desperation we strive to breathe
    Finding distractions to escape the void
    The stark reality that lies just beneath the surface.

    Searching for things that define our being
    That give this futile existence some meaning.

    It's an endless search
    Don't you realize?
    Nothing can fill this void of ours...

    A common fate assigned to all
    Priveliged and under-priveliged alike
    Jubilant and melancholy alike.

    Maybe what they say is true
    That if we are really living one life
    One short, futile, hopeless existence
    Then maybe dwelling on these matters is foolish.

    But the truth of the matter is
    If entertainment is gone-
    Things that evoke
    Lust and pleasure and other
    Short-lived feelings
    If this system didn't exist
    GPA and SAT scores and other
    Short-term goals
    If people and religion and even
    A will to survive...
    If all this simply ceased to exist
    To be of importance...
    Then truly- What have we got to live for?

    I pray to God, if there truly is a God
    That somehow, someway
    All of us, everyone
    Can truly begin to heal.

    But when you're looking at Death
    Straight in the eye
    When he extends his hand toward you
    And you have no choice but to take it-
    When Death arrives at an unexpected hour
    And sits at your doorstep, refusing to leave
    Then that faint glimmer of hope begins to fade
    Receding into the darkness
    Until you're left with no choice but to
    Grasp the icy hands of death
    In worn-out defeat.

    Filled with dread and sick with anticipation
    Wondering, pondering
    How will I fare with Death?
    Is it the single-minded rapture
    In which a child, for the first time
    Stands admist a vivid display of exploding firecrackers?
    Or is the truth much harsher than that
    A cold, slimy, unsettling reality?
    Will it just be the
    Vast, barren land- scorched and dry
    Leaving your soul to wonder around, restless
    Unaware of its own torment?

    Anguish cannot be measured on scales
    With words with tears with screams with cries
    With looks of utter and complete despair
    It can't be measured.

    For some, it lies buried deep within
    And stays there, never finding a way
    To truly express itself
    Lacking knowledge on how to escape
    Its self-imposed prison
    And even afraid of taking chances
    Of taking risks and trying new things.

    For some, it is like a dormant volancoe
    And, if let loose- can wreak unspeakable havoc
    On itself, on everything around it
    So in order to maintain a steady balance
    It supresses everything inside
    Allowing itself to decay, just a little bit
    Day by day, until it gets to be too late.

    There are many reasons, many explanations
    And no solutions in sight
    They all want to "toughen" you up
    So you could get a hold on your life
    And I wish it was that easy
    But wishing is all I can ever do
    I don't know why but I can't seem to try
    Maybe I was never meant to.
  2. The_Discarded

    The_Discarded Staff Alumni



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