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Rated: E · Other · Dark · #2017445
A poem highlighting my failures.
Shatter my voice box and pull out my tongue. The sounds which they create are gruellingly boring and repetitive. My mouth spews forth useless advice that tries to carve out my individuality in a listless age.
Even its most creative ramblings are so uninspired; unbelievable and unimaginative that my lips should not be forced to open for another utterance.

Burn my eyes for they cannot see the beauty that surrounds me. They are ungrateful and see only the dull. They do not guide me to the wondrous places that my heart seeks; they avert from any adventure and look instead for the stale stimulation of the beauty of happenstance. They yearn only for the crimson solitude so easy upon my soul.

Let my brain wither and decay, unstimulated, as it looks only for easy truths and home comforts. It dwells on the poverty, on the unjust and on the mindless numbing machine I dwell within, yet can be distracted and completely enveloped by a soft touch, intoxicating poisons and temporary happiness. It is so naive that it convinces me that my happiness shall fall before me, and in fact asks that this should be so.

May my guts spill out and fall to the floor because my cowardice overwhelms me. I fear everything from the kind word of another to the damage of one of my precious organs, to the change that would ultimately be my saviour. Let me rot in my comfort and cringe and whimper as I see my freedom flying overhead.
If all my dreams and desires were handed to me on a plate through kindness or through love I would surely turn these gifts away, in fear of loss and then condemn others as if it were a misfortune bestowed upon me.

Let me lose everything because I deserve nothing. If my sleep should lead me not into a new day then nothing at all will be lost. I will in fact be spared from a repeating maddening cycle of my own design that would see my body shed of its essence and light. The decomposition of my heart will be the only tragedy. For my hearts mantra is love, and above all else all I want is to feel love and experience it with as many people as possible; and it is this solemn mantra of mine that helps me through each dark night and desolate nightmare.







         



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2017445-Decomposition