ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Seconds do not feel like seconds any more
Minutes seem shorter than they did when I was young
Years pass by without much ever happening
Nothing is right but then again nothing is wrong
Maybe that could be the problem
That life’s slowly passing me by
I walk around with my shoulders arched
Like I’m afraid to even try
Yes, I’m certain that’s the problem
I’m too scared to stop asking why
Do things come so easily to others
That to me so far have been denied
The air does not feel like air any more
Each breath feels like it is racing my heartbeat
I wonder sometimes which one will prevail
The air in my lungs or the fight in me
Maybe that’s always been the problem
My mind has long since been my alibi
Convincing myself I am okay
When I am clearly struggling to survive
Yes, I understand that’s the problem
I speak to myself without reply
I could ramble on past forever
If I stop I might just crumble and cry
Words do not feel much like words any more
I speak as loud as I can but they do not hear
I think I’ve something important to say
But my sentences seem to travel nowhere
Now I know that’s been my problem
It’s been eating away at my disguise
I walk around half asleep most days
Like I am being sung a lullaby
Finally I’m sure that’s the problem
If I talk enough I eventually lie
Do you expect me to ramble on forever?
If I roared would you be surprised?
Minutes seem shorter than they did when I was young
Years pass by without much ever happening
Nothing is right but then again nothing is wrong
Maybe that could be the problem
That life’s slowly passing me by
I walk around with my shoulders arched
Like I’m afraid to even try
Yes, I’m certain that’s the problem
I’m too scared to stop asking why
Do things come so easily to others
That to me so far have been denied
The air does not feel like air any more
Each breath feels like it is racing my heartbeat
I wonder sometimes which one will prevail
The air in my lungs or the fight in me
Maybe that’s always been the problem
My mind has long since been my alibi
Convincing myself I am okay
When I am clearly struggling to survive
Yes, I understand that’s the problem
I speak to myself without reply
I could ramble on past forever
If I stop I might just crumble and cry
Words do not feel much like words any more
I speak as loud as I can but they do not hear
I think I’ve something important to say
But my sentences seem to travel nowhere
Now I know that’s been my problem
It’s been eating away at my disguise
I walk around half asleep most days
Like I am being sung a lullaby
Finally I’m sure that’s the problem
If I talk enough I eventually lie
Do you expect me to ramble on forever?
If I roared would you be surprised?
Literature
Out of Time
Can you feel it, I wonder?
The sand that slowly slips away.
The inexorable march of time,
Ticking away at you,
Piece by piece.
You crumble.
Regret, anguish; there is no joy in what comes.
All you have left are 'what if' memories,
Eating away at you, like maggots on the skin.
So deep was the pain inside of you,
So bitter the desire for change;
You even came crawling back to me,
Begging for another chance.
I wonder,
Shall I give it to you?
Literature
For My People
As far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I lo
Literature
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)
I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Of academics
High achievers
Schooling-keen
Fervent believers
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
Sternly-sculpted syllabus-minds
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Who
Or what
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
realityisfarlessexciting
© 2015 - 2024 CloudNumber8
Comments22
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
It's a good poem, and I do understand the sentiment.