This is based off a prose I wrote just venting. It can be very hard to stay positive or realistic all the time, and that day, life's burdens seemed to have overwhelmed me.
and other times I forget they are there.
My mind in this body that fails my will and makes me the fool
is wasted like rain in the sewer.
I roll the dice to reveal my luck,
and catch a glimpse of what I make of my fate,
as one says, 'Yea,' the other says, 'Nay,' not today.
My face feels flush and my rage is provoked,
but who is it proper to lay waste?
In the end, it is I who bears the blemish of disgrace,
the cycle spins me again, deserving more pain,
atop of my tormented heart.
Broken and betrayed are those who believed in me,
as fate favors no man, not even the bold.
Accomplishing nothing, playing against a machine,
nothing done and to do nothing
Forget this life and to Hel's table be the wretches who forecast a life after this.
Let me once be born, suffer life until I beg the grave to set me free.
Let me die and be it all there is,
for I may not be sound if another disappointment I become.
Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 242 times
Written on 2021-02-27 at 07:55
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Another Disappointment
Sometimes I feel I deserve the pain that ails me,and other times I forget they are there.
My mind in this body that fails my will and makes me the fool
is wasted like rain in the sewer.
I roll the dice to reveal my luck,
and catch a glimpse of what I make of my fate,
as one says, 'Yea,' the other says, 'Nay,' not today.
My face feels flush and my rage is provoked,
but who is it proper to lay waste?
In the end, it is I who bears the blemish of disgrace,
the cycle spins me again, deserving more pain,
atop of my tormented heart.
Broken and betrayed are those who believed in me,
as fate favors no man, not even the bold.
Accomplishing nothing, playing against a machine,
nothing done and to do nothing
Forget this life and to Hel's table be the wretches who forecast a life after this.
Let me once be born, suffer life until I beg the grave to set me free.
Let me die and be it all there is,
for I may not be sound if another disappointment I become.
Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 242 times
Written on 2021-02-27 at 07:55
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
josephus |
AFRODITE STATHI |
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