The songs rise and fall,
Hazy melodies on high seas
Because the crash of the symbols
Are the crash of the waves
And all humans are,
Are slaves,
To their work, their fashion,
Necessity and demand
Not one glimpse of passion,
No longer, at least
And faces are ashen
With the lack of care,
The lack of heat
Lack of feelings
And of having expectations we can't meet
_________________________________________
I have been betrayed, deceived
From a young age I had believed
That I could be more than what I was,
Fame and glory
Purses through my veins prematurely
With every silly short story I wrote
Which received praise in a teachers note
What am I really?
Besides a silly teenaged girl with dreams bigger than herself,
Leading to pressure and questionable mental health.
"Aim for the moon, even if you don't reach, you'll land among the stars" they call—
But what if I don't make it into orbit at all?
————————————————————
We desperately claw into peoples minds
We clamber to their member and hope we don't fade away.
It's a wonder, to be remembered
Not everyone is so lucky.
History will forget us
Our meaningless lives whither as we walk
————————————————————
A/N: I am aware the last one is a bit, how do I say this? Melancholy? I'm honestly not sure why it got so dark. Anyway, please suggest names for these little tidbits, if you don't mind (I'm also aware these are pretty underwhelming so I'm sorry :^\ ) xx
YOU ARE READING
The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
PoetryI write poetry and use writing prompts and start stories, chances are they'll be one of three things: simple, artsy, pretentious. All of them will be pretty bad. Bad art is better than no art, though, and more people need to let themselves make bad...
