THIS IS NOT A POEM
3:11 AM
“Someone has it much more badly than you do” they say.
That’s bullshit, that’s bullshit,
Because it doesn’t change the fact that I still want to die that I still feel insignificant.
That I feel pointless that I hate life and
Everything that comes along with it
Including myself
That I still have it bad and that they do too,
And the universe is our personal hell.
And we experience hell even before we die.
When living feels more like dying,
Then perhaps dying would be better than being the world’s rag.
And that we’re just trifling dust in the sandstorm you call life,
Or that I wish my life wouldn’t be in a desert at all.
Dull, alone, and
Scorching hot, making me thirst for underworld’s Lethe.
And all of us are just wandering souls waiting for
Death’s sickle, and to roll swiftly in his arms and
That half of us would greet him as an old friend,
And half of us would beg him to delay.
Prolonging our stay in the desert
In hopes of getting our share of water,
Before letting the sandstorm swallow us whole.
And that the people most important
Are the ones making you feel all this.
And maybe I used too much “and”
And and and and end I want it to end
That this is not a poem
And that I wish it was.
That it has no structure and meaning and rhyme and
Nothing just seemed to match
Much like my life.
And it’s ironic how two messed up things about me
Are the only things that do.
But perhaps I could add this to the list of things I managed to fuck up
Or the list of things I wish I could make,
And the scroll of things I hate about myself.
And I wish I wish that all of the things I repeated
Such as this, this, and life, and this, and trying, and this
Would all soon end and and and that this is not a poem,
And that I wish it was,
And that I wish this wasn’t my life too.
References:
Lethe- Lethe, one of the five rivers of the Greek underworld, was the river of forgetfulness. It is said that once you immerse yourself in this river, you will forget everything.
That’s bullshit, that’s bullshit,
Because it doesn’t change the fact that I still want to die that I still feel insignificant.
That I feel pointless that I hate life and
Everything that comes along with it
Including myself
That I still have it bad and that they do too,
And the universe is our personal hell.
And we experience hell even before we die.
When living feels more like dying,
Then perhaps dying would be better than being the world’s rag.
And that we’re just trifling dust in the sandstorm you call life,
Or that I wish my life wouldn’t be in a desert at all.
Dull, alone, and
Scorching hot, making me thirst for underworld’s Lethe.
And all of us are just wandering souls waiting for
Death’s sickle, and to roll swiftly in his arms and
That half of us would greet him as an old friend,
And half of us would beg him to delay.
Prolonging our stay in the desert
In hopes of getting our share of water,
Before letting the sandstorm swallow us whole.
And that the people most important
Are the ones making you feel all this.
And maybe I used too much “and”
And and and and end I want it to end
That this is not a poem
And that I wish it was.
That it has no structure and meaning and rhyme and
Nothing just seemed to match
Much like my life.
And it’s ironic how two messed up things about me
Are the only things that do.
But perhaps I could add this to the list of things I managed to fuck up
Or the list of things I wish I could make,
And the scroll of things I hate about myself.
And I wish I wish that all of the things I repeated
Such as this, this, and life, and this, and trying, and this
Would all soon end and and and that this is not a poem,
And that I wish it was,
And that I wish this wasn’t my life too.
References:
Lethe- Lethe, one of the five rivers of the Greek underworld, was the river of forgetfulness. It is said that once you immerse yourself in this river, you will forget everything.
1 comments
tears, so much tears
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