One day we will have to answer for our sins
Choices and consequences
Actions and repercussions
We all have to face the music sometime.

So, I sit here reflecting on this mess of a life I live
The lovers I have left in my wake,
holding nothing but a few haunting memories and the sour end of a goodbye.

I wonder what manner of hell they give me for that.
Or maybe this is hell...
...and everything and everyone just an elaborate punishment
Cursed to suffer through till death releases me from my sentence.
Lord knows that it sure feels like it.

So, I sit pondering the meaning of it all.
Each passing hour leaving me worse than when I started.
Meaning and purpose are a luxury I do not get to call my own.

Mine is the black abyss of my own thoughts,
and I am yet to find a soul brave enough to fall into mine.

Day after day I try to make my way through the labyrinth.
Wading across the muck of mysteries I am plagued with.

I question God.
I question Man
I question Life
I question Me

No answers forthcoming.
Just an awkward one sided conversation

Even poetry refuses to be the soothing balm it used to be.
You know you are truly alone when even your own words do not dare come to keep you company.

I think back to every promise I watched shatter
Every oath I let die.

I try not to make those. Words are just words.
and even love is just love until it's not.

Then you're back to square one, holding your heart in your hand without the idea of a thought on what to do with it now.

You see, forever doesn't last too long where I'm from
Infinity is about a five-minute drive away from pain
Eternity was yesterday
And shit,
Always is but a few fleeting moments

Even the past is not guaranteed.
Things come to light and the ground moves beneath your feet
You realize that you didn't know what you thought you knew.

Then you're back to square one, holding your heart in your hand without the idea of a thought on what to do with it now.

And that is the reason we write, I believe.
Things and people look so much better on paper.
Everything looks better on paper

Painting pretty pictures of pain.
Life even almost makes sense at times,
when you're hammering away at one keypad or another.

You're only truly dead when you have nothing left to say.
So we write and arrogantly assume that the world cares to read our words.

But mostly we just write.

The pen is a god unto itself

That sounds like a good line.
I might use it someday.

Haven't the foggiest what it means though.

For now, we dredge on through this shit-show that is life

We fall down
and we get up
We fall down
and we get up
or we don't

One day we will have to answer for our sins...

...but today is not that day.

Written by TMA (Apollo)
Published | Edited 18th Nov 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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