deepundergroundpoetry.com
Box
Sometimes I feel like
I'm in a box
I cannot maneuver
I cannot break free
Smothered in my own hypocrisy
Of who I am in reality
Wrestling from within
Trying to be something
I simply cannot be.
Golden years...
A euphemism for declining years
At times I feel used
Seems no purpose to carry on
Living a life of feeble mindedness
Is not for me.
Maybe the box is where
I should maintain
Am hidden away
No one can see the real me
The seething hate I clothe myself in
I haven't a chance to be real
To be who I really want to be
I cannot be.
I'm old now
Ready to check out
To be done with earthly matters
All the consumption
All the things I do not need
One day if I say it enough
It shall happen
I will be no more of flesh and blood
I will cry no more tears
For the hurt put upon myself.
Into the primordial soup
I shall go along with all others
Who have passed
What a life.
Live and die.
Part of the overall plan.
I'm in a box
I cannot maneuver
I cannot break free
Smothered in my own hypocrisy
Of who I am in reality
Wrestling from within
Trying to be something
I simply cannot be.
Golden years...
A euphemism for declining years
At times I feel used
Seems no purpose to carry on
Living a life of feeble mindedness
Is not for me.
Maybe the box is where
I should maintain
Am hidden away
No one can see the real me
The seething hate I clothe myself in
I haven't a chance to be real
To be who I really want to be
I cannot be.
I'm old now
Ready to check out
To be done with earthly matters
All the consumption
All the things I do not need
One day if I say it enough
It shall happen
I will be no more of flesh and blood
I will cry no more tears
For the hurt put upon myself.
Into the primordial soup
I shall go along with all others
Who have passed
What a life.
Live and die.
Part of the overall plan.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 3
reads 261
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.