I exist in a bramble cage,
Each thorn poking melancholy into my veins.
My thicket prison grows everyday,
Strangling my happiness until it drains away.
I exist in a terrible world,
Where news is about war and murder.
We're told that people are content,
But it's only stupid propaganda.
I exist in a corrupted society,
Filled with people who will harm you.
The jails are full so they have nowhere to go,
So I sit and suffer blow after blow.
I exist in a deluded universe,
Filled with discords of depression.
I no longer see clearly, I just see mist.
Some people live…I just exist.
The living sea erupted, trying to touch the source of rain,
The billowing clouds' precipitation beat down again and again,
Thor's fury showed parts of the tempestuous scene,
Thunder gave sound to an image far from serene.
In the middle of this,
Was a tiny boat.
Lost at sea,
But still with hope.
What seemed like the worst was only the beginning,
As the ferocious wind howled, then started whistling.
The clouds launched a second and more powerful attack,
Descending to the sea and leaving a thick fog in their tracks.
The tiny boat,
Small and brittle,
Whose crew would soon,
Have to test their mettle.
The invisible moon shone above
In the exam hall I plant
My buttocks on a chair.
Then I sit and try to avoid
All the teacher's stares.
"The examination will commence
At exactly one'o'clock.
So just sit still and do not talk-
Be silent as a rock."
For the three magic words.
"You may begin," the teacher says,
And ruffling paper is heard.
I look at the paper,
And much to my dismay.
It isn't just bad,
It gets worse on every page!
I look at all the questions,
The true and false ones first.
The answers have all left my head,
My transportation - A hearse?
"Please put down your pens,
And collect every page.
Most of you will probably,
Not be al
Your eternal struggle to achieve the impossible
Will lead to your demise.
Your inner demons that whisper in your ear,
Will kill you from inside.
Your never-ending quest for perfection,
Will destroy you if you persist.
Your unquenchable thirst for the truth,
Will annihilate you if you don't resist.
Your determination for full marks,
Will burn you out to soon.
Your unreachable standards you have set,
Will be your impending doom.
Your personal goals are folly,
You've reached an impassable gate.
Your eternal quest for perfection,
Needs to stop, before it's too late.
What if you could have a birds-eye view,
And see civilization as a whole?
Would it be what you imagined,
Or what you have been told?
What if you could have an ants-eye view,
And be surrounded by massive things?
Would the world be the same,
Or would it be frightening?
What if you could have a cut-down view,
Of a half, a quarter, or one eighth?
Would you be proud of what you see,
Or would you lose your faith?
What if you just saw through your eyes,
And see everything as you normally do?
Would you continue with your life,
Get to the finish line, and just pass through?
Would you stand out from the crowd,
And don't listen to what
Barely audible sounds filter through the silence,
Then stop - afraid they might have caused offence.
You are bathed in ambient light that comes from the screen,
This is your life on TV - and it's not a dream.
The TV remote dissolves through your sweaty fingers,
The granules of plastic fall and do not linger.
They lights start to dim, then turn black,
And you are afraid - afraid of this "attack".
Your eyes are drawn to the pixel filled image,
And you wonder if the drugs caused any damage.
Your instincts tell you to look away,
But you are compelled to sit and stay.
As pictures flash across the screen,
You see your life and how good
Life and its experiences are like a lottery,
Each one drawn out by a dignitary,
Who then proceeds to throw this experience at us,
And asks us to run in front of a bus.
(Metaphorically, of course.)
Life is full or surprises,
And cliché's that people get tired of.
"Slow and steady wins the race"
And "Never judge a book by its cover" both have their place.
(Au contraire, life is a cliché.)
Life can be difficult for many people,
For example, getting stuck on a cathedral's steeple.
Broken bones, minor cuts and bruises,
Gang up together and try to kill us.
(The pinnacle of personification.)
Life can be wonderful for others,
Gruesome apparitions haunt his conscious hours,
Phantoms of immense yet insignificant power.
Crimson wraiths float through the corridors of his mind,
Ghastly appearances and nauseating shrieks combined.
The walls of his apartment are constantly changing,
Their colours and dimensions continuously rearranging.
Inanimate objects such as furniture and white goods,
Do not stay in the places that they should.
His world is full of non-existent sounds,
Yet the things that he hears have no bounds.
He is assaulted by a cacophony of noises every waking moment,
And sleep is the only way to end his audible torment.
He has medication, but its e
Every morning is the same,
Except for what is on TV,
Every morning there is the pain,
Suffering and misery.
He collects his newspaper every day,
From his unkempt front lawn.
Every time, much to his dismay,
His tabloid has been torn.
He does not have a pet,
He has no one, not even a friend.
He is very deep in debt,
Why this is so, he cannot comprehend.
He still does his crossword every day,
And reads his newspaper as well.
His routine has always been this way,
Always accurate and to the bell.
He turns his radio on every night,
And listens to the same old show.
He gets into bed and turns off the light,
Reaches over and turns
His emotions flowed onto the ivory keys,
As he played a haunting tune from his memory.
His hands quivered as they touched the white blocks,
Then he stopped. Silence - except for a ticking clock.
Hunched over the keyboard he wept,
He could always play the piano, but now he was inept.
A single tear dropped from the surface of his face,
Then he banged his fist on the keys, and left in disgrace.
He walked to his dust-filled cellar and turned on the light,
Then tried to find something that could get him through the night.
He selected a fine red and walked up the stairs,
The wooden steps that had too much wear.
He selected a random CD
your absence fills the room
and i'm choking on the stale air you left.
two weeks ago and your words
are ringing in my ears.
circling like fading music
you left me broken, wrapped up cold
in the corner, teased by green lights
and red glows that used to illuminate your face.
your eyes with that reasuring angle to them,
your smile that could wash away any anger,
depression or fear.
you left me helpless with dead air
haunting our lips as my happiness
crumbled like dust on recievers.
its not what we had but what we were.
and what we could be. it hurts most
that i won't see you everyday.
my sacrifices and hours spent driving
What you denied to me
was never yours to give.
Instead I tasted pain,
and found the strength to live.
You first showed me secrets.
You helped me to see:
there is more to life on earth
than what is known to me.
You showed me a new world
that I never thought to know.
You'd be my companion.
You, who started me to grow.
You were my teacher,
and you taught me all too well.
You have taught me lessons
that no human tongue can tell.
You were my friend, my love, my guide.
You were my destiny.
But all paths are full of choices,
and my choices set me free.
I know all your secrets.
I've seen through all your lies.
You still feed on
In these eerie silences,
Whispers and screams escape the soul;
Nothing can live through this eternal night.
Forgotten in both love and death,
Nothing can save the lone being
Pity is all that is left,
In the soul of forgotten light.
Despair and fear tear through,
Breaking away from within,
Destroying the life that once was;
So pure, so fair, so happy.
Love once crushed;
Can rip you apart.
Wanting to be free;
Wanting to forget
The little pictures,
That once brought pleasure
Only bring pain.
A strain against the chest;
A missed thump in the beat;
A yell of suffering;
A tear of sadness.
The clouds break through;
Tomorrow, the unthinkable will happen. Tomorrow, I lose my subscription. :(
I'd just like to thank dear-jb (https://www.deviantart.com/dear-jb) once again for buying me this three month subscription, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
To everyone: Feel free to buy me another subscription! :D
The man with the keyboard lodged into his head.
Explanation for absence: I'll inform you of it when I can think of a good one. :D
I will hopefully be putting some more deviations up soon. Maybe some fractals, maybe some poetry, or maybe something completely different. (It depends what I feel like doing.)
Until next time,
Signed: The guy with the mouse cord around his head.