Dyrwen
03-19-2004, 03:13 AM
Before I get a chance to stop myself from posting this poem, I figured I'd better go ahead with it. I really liked it as I wrote it and had just wrote it a few minutes ago, so might as well go with it.
I wrote this tonight because it's how I feel. Obviously that's how most of my writing goes..but I felt this one particularly well. I could sing it, or at least have some sort of rhythm to it because I felt it in my head very well. Imagine the ending stanzas occasionally yelling, because the words they say hold much anger from the frustration. Btw, I wrote the last stanza after I re-read it once I had written it, felt it about summed it up. Comments are appreciated, philosophical jargon is also tolerated..heh.
Advice Recollection
All this constant frustration just wells right up,
with all these conflicts falling down.
Trapping them deep inside, they bruise from within,
I'm kept wounded under my skin,
unable to heal the tension pulling tight.
Bleeding internally in a way you cannot see,
I just wish you could know this pain.
I know you do and that much similarity irritates me so,
making my tortured life seem so much more pointless too.
Can you see the heat rising from my skin?
Or has my blood drenched your eyes tonight?
So far away from that which you see,
you'll never get to know who I want to be.
I never seem to know just what I want to do,
indecisive as always, kept in so many vices.
Left in a world with delusions and virtuality,
while in mind the struggle is between only two:
The thought of a constant monotony in security,
or a lost life in brilliance and aesthetic beauty.
Every present hour only leaves me empty,
whether seeing an illusion of joy,
or a loving compassion from those who care,
all I feel is desolate at best,
this timeless hour has left me in need of rest.
All these hindrances coming at me daily,
overthought always and without purpose to do it.
Why must I make myself be troubled so much,
when all I have to do is ignore it like the rest.
Unable to be there in the moment,
because I'm always stuck thinking about the next movement.
Everything that comes at me takes up so much,
I've nothing left to protect myself tonight.
I'm lost and alone without a purpose or care,
can't you see I'm dazed in confusion?
Or have I repressed it so far that no one can tell?
I can't get help from your empathy, like most might.
If only I could, I'd be able to sleep at night.
I'm trapped in this dark hollow shell,
I don't know where I'm supposed to end up,
and all I can see are these lights from above.
All these visions of what I'm supposed to have,
but no reason to take them,
why give them to me? Let the others grab.
I want nothing from this, leave me for dead,
passed out on the ground bleeding and content.
This is my memory. This is my thought.
Here in the past remains this passion so wrought,
yet I want nothing more than to take its advice,
let me escape from this life tonight.
I wrote this tonight because it's how I feel. Obviously that's how most of my writing goes..but I felt this one particularly well. I could sing it, or at least have some sort of rhythm to it because I felt it in my head very well. Imagine the ending stanzas occasionally yelling, because the words they say hold much anger from the frustration. Btw, I wrote the last stanza after I re-read it once I had written it, felt it about summed it up. Comments are appreciated, philosophical jargon is also tolerated..heh.
Advice Recollection
All this constant frustration just wells right up,
with all these conflicts falling down.
Trapping them deep inside, they bruise from within,
I'm kept wounded under my skin,
unable to heal the tension pulling tight.
Bleeding internally in a way you cannot see,
I just wish you could know this pain.
I know you do and that much similarity irritates me so,
making my tortured life seem so much more pointless too.
Can you see the heat rising from my skin?
Or has my blood drenched your eyes tonight?
So far away from that which you see,
you'll never get to know who I want to be.
I never seem to know just what I want to do,
indecisive as always, kept in so many vices.
Left in a world with delusions and virtuality,
while in mind the struggle is between only two:
The thought of a constant monotony in security,
or a lost life in brilliance and aesthetic beauty.
Every present hour only leaves me empty,
whether seeing an illusion of joy,
or a loving compassion from those who care,
all I feel is desolate at best,
this timeless hour has left me in need of rest.
All these hindrances coming at me daily,
overthought always and without purpose to do it.
Why must I make myself be troubled so much,
when all I have to do is ignore it like the rest.
Unable to be there in the moment,
because I'm always stuck thinking about the next movement.
Everything that comes at me takes up so much,
I've nothing left to protect myself tonight.
I'm lost and alone without a purpose or care,
can't you see I'm dazed in confusion?
Or have I repressed it so far that no one can tell?
I can't get help from your empathy, like most might.
If only I could, I'd be able to sleep at night.
I'm trapped in this dark hollow shell,
I don't know where I'm supposed to end up,
and all I can see are these lights from above.
All these visions of what I'm supposed to have,
but no reason to take them,
why give them to me? Let the others grab.
I want nothing from this, leave me for dead,
passed out on the ground bleeding and content.
This is my memory. This is my thought.
Here in the past remains this passion so wrought,
yet I want nothing more than to take its advice,
let me escape from this life tonight.