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Dark Poetry #4
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Paper Tiger
Member
since 2003-09-28
Posts 77


0 posted 2004-04-18 12:27 PM


Nothing good's on –
Every day's a re-run.
I can't help but complain, and rot away,
Oh – what a sorry way!

The thought of failure numbs me:
Allows me to put off things,
And persist on being pessimistic.

I find comfort in the silence –
Trapped in my own head.
A voice within whispers something:
"A man who’s already dead."

A pale light lingers over me,
Though its intensity is decreasing –
Feels like I'm in a hole that's shrinking,
And the depth is increasing.

Oh!How my existence is wasted
On negativity and melancholy!
And though I can define why,
I may never understand my folly.

My fears control me
Like a lifeless puppet.
My doubts are unwavering,
But they will never suffice.

The thought of failure numbs me:
Allows me to put off things,
And persist on being pessimistic.

I'm not all right.
I'm not okay.
I'm not content –
And I'm not going to pretend.

We see much, observe little, and perceive less.

© Copyright 2004 Paper Tiger - All Rights Reserved
eor
Senior Member
since 2002-09-26
Posts 959
blues & greys
1 posted 2004-04-18 05:10 AM


very pessimistic indeed

"So what befalls the flawless?
Look what I've built, it shines so beautifully now watch as it destroys me."

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