deepundergroundpoetry.com
Falling (20, February 2012)
This pathetic like I withold,
Seems to be,
The only thing I'm able to focus on.
And the more I pay attention to such,
The more helpless I become.
None of this matters;
None of these words.
And yet I'm yerning for something more,
But I'm never starving,
And I'm never satisfied.
So I'll be the ears of these walls,
And listen to the hatred,
Behind these walls.
I feed on those whose hatred burns,
And make amends with their passing apathy.
Seems to be,
The only thing I'm able to focus on.
And the more I pay attention to such,
The more helpless I become.
None of this matters;
None of these words.
And yet I'm yerning for something more,
But I'm never starving,
And I'm never satisfied.
So I'll be the ears of these walls,
And listen to the hatred,
Behind these walls.
I feed on those whose hatred burns,
And make amends with their passing apathy.
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