deepundergroundpoetry.com

Quarter-life crisis

 
When did the magic and mystery of  childhood innocence become the apathetic endurance of adulthood?
The degrade into vulgar debauchery and perverse corruption is so gradual we never took notice,
but while our attention is diverted to our adolescent trivial travesties a tragedy is taking place.
The world was closing in on us and before we knew it we were surrounded with enemies bearing down all around us.
Somewhere along the way we forgot how to breathe but became familiar with screaming.  
Upon inspection,
in retrospect, it seems I've fallen short and the vast compendium of knowledge I've accumulated has been reduced to petty games of trivia with no real world application
and no real world education.
I look at the extensive years that lie behind me,
the infinite footfalls I've made
were all for naught
and the finite ones I have left to make will fade given enough time.
All the lessons learned from mistakes I've personally perpetrated will one day be rendered irrelevant.
So much strife endured and hardship overcome and for what?
I've squandered everything,
left any shimmering hope behind to tarnish and rust in a tried and true, patented pattern of self destruction and deceit.
Their expectations were far too high and the burden of my myriad failures far too heavy.
I don't know if my shoulders are broad enough to bear another burden of this magnitude.
I'd like to believe that I as well am far too young to be faced with such a cynical truth but the reality is that I am.
Perhaps it is I whose expectations were too high,
whose requirements I've failed to meet.
Perhaps I've failed to live up to my own standards.
Stasis is a stagnant purgatory.
At least life is interesting when it is falling apart.
Life is too much like politics for my liking anyway.
So let it disintegrate and dissolve once more so that I may start again anew with a false sense of accomplishment and purpose.
I, as a man, am not supposed to show weakness,
to expose the faults and fissures that riddle the fickle mind that hides behind the varnished grin and beaming veneer,
but although I may be afraid,
petrified  by the prospect of an existence saturated with mundane mediocrity,
I am not afraid of you.
I am not deterred by your words or your wounds.
I place my faith higher than the opinions of man.
It is there that I seek favor
and,
as always,
I will persevere.
Written by Thethree3 (Shane Hawks)
Published
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