There's this thing that I've heard of
Where your blood is slow
Where if you stand too fast you fall to the ground.
That thing I heard of is a nightmare
Because your own body is fighting to make you fall down.
And that is the true mystery of humans
Because even when our blood is slow
And will is weak
We continue fighting
In spite of our bodies
Others kill each other off for weakness
We kill each other for strength.
To prove we are strong.
That we don't need to think.
We are slaves to our bodies
An entity controlled by your vessel
A broken shell beaten by instincts and illness.
We try to live so we don't die
And we die because we just couldn't live anymore.
YOU ARE READING
The Astronomers Last Words (An abundance of poems)
PoetryWhen a notebook isn't enough to hold your thoughts you try tumblr. Then when that fails as well because maintaining a blog is a taxing task and you would rather be reblogging gay love you then decide to make a WattPad story. Everything is mine inclu...
