Home > Poetry > What To Do

What To Do

Turmoil,
This boiling feeling.

Calmed only by my own tears,
Of contemplating sadness.

New lives delve into mine,
And steal my remaining happiness.

The purpose I had,
Is gone,

The dreams I had,
Are gone,

The role I played,
Has been stolen.

Again, I live in another’s shadow,
When I thought I had escaped it all.

The past comes back to haunt me,
Everything seems so difficult.

So out of reach,
So superficial.

I reflect yet again,
Upon my past.

The present ceases to exist,
And the future remains thoughtless.

The moment I had something,
It was taken from my palm.

My only cure,
Is also my disease.

I have no one beside me,
No longer am I beside myself.

Searching for an answer,
Searching for something to fill this emptyness.

How have I become myself,
And why?

Weakling,
Coward,
Distasteful,
Foolish,
Problematic,
Lazy,
Disgusting,
Just a few words to describe me.

Lost in this oblivion,
I walk alone.

Turmoil,
This contemporary feeling.

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  1. soulintention
    August 20, 2008 at 2:10 PM

    sounds like the disease is alchol — sounds like the cure is –
    well (we each have that journey)

    well written —

    barbara

  2. January 27, 2009 at 2:23 AM

    Thank you very much! 🙂

    • January 31, 2009 at 12:32 AM

      Testing.

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