deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wishing for a chalice
Let's ask
The glass
It's half
Full or empty?
Quite simply,
It doesn't matter
Because with a single clatter
It will topple to the table
Pouring out all of what we feel, and we are able
To see past the fable
Of the distracting conundrum
And see that we are humdrum,
Or crestfallen,
Or slowly crawling
Drawing yourself into a smile
Gnawing yourself into a trial
Falling into denial
Sprawling away from suicidal
Finding yourself asking
Am I masking
The fact that my life is half empty,
And missing something?
Or has it been given at least something?
Even if it's half, it's still something, right?
Either way,
No matter which we choose
We're still incomplete.
The glass
It's half
Full or empty?
Quite simply,
It doesn't matter
Because with a single clatter
It will topple to the table
Pouring out all of what we feel, and we are able
To see past the fable
Of the distracting conundrum
And see that we are humdrum,
Or crestfallen,
Or slowly crawling
Drawing yourself into a smile
Gnawing yourself into a trial
Falling into denial
Sprawling away from suicidal
Finding yourself asking
Am I masking
The fact that my life is half empty,
And missing something?
Or has it been given at least something?
Even if it's half, it's still something, right?
Either way,
No matter which we choose
We're still incomplete.
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