I often wonder why life, people lacks the compassion .
They lack the ability to feel. I have come to the knowledge of knowing :
empathy is not automatically obtained when a person reaches the realm of this world.
My heart is saddened and troubled to the point where I cannot form cohesive thoughts of my own.
The poison that runs through my blood has yet spread to my offspring.
They say the sins of the father affects everyone that comes after him.
I live through a barrage of disillusionment and my tears are as dry as hardened barren soil and brings forth no fruit of relief while my blood rushes upwards and boils in a slow simmer , which deprives my heart of oxygen.
I seek peace, I seek resolutions but it comes to no avail.
What price is there for the innocent ? Who speaks for the tired and weary?
As I walk down a long lonely path faceless silhouettes of people stand motionless and emotionless.
Time has stopped to a place where I wish could be re-visited, where I once held hope .
There’s a time where you come to realize that all your struggles , your cries for help will eventually be heard only when your tears stop.
The silence is more effective than the bellowing out of your torment.
I resign myself to a place of peacefulness and acceptance knowing that inevitably the UN- relenting storm is out of my control.
My foot stands firm and steadfast seeking closure not by my works but by a force stronger than myself.
Clawing desperately to keep my grip on reality I surrender.
I can remember a time where I knew I wasn’t alone, sitting in the quietness of my own thought although I was only but a mere child:
I knew that I wasn’t alone. There was a sense of longing of wanting something bigger than myself, my mind races to an outer-worldly place where all things can be possible.
As I grew I could still hear the whispering of rancid thoughts that flew over and by my head: if the world was so big why did I feel so small?
What significance did I have in a world that I considered myself invisible.
Day after day my thoughts created a universe where I was accepted and loved.
My thoughts became a creation of my own that had names and became people in my invisible world. No one could penetrate them because they could not see.
My characters became a strength all their own.
As I grew my characters took care to stay in a hidden place to protect me from the outside world in which they wanted me to conform to a “normal” reality.
In life you make decisions on being who you are.
They lack the ability to feel. I have come to the knowledge of knowing :
empathy is not automatically obtained when a person reaches the realm of this world.
My heart is saddened and troubled to the point where I cannot form cohesive thoughts of my own.
The poison that runs through my blood has yet spread to my offspring.
They say the sins of the father affects everyone that comes after him.
I live through a barrage of disillusionment and my tears are as dry as hardened barren soil and brings forth no fruit of relief while my blood rushes upwards and boils in a slow simmer , which deprives my heart of oxygen.
I seek peace, I seek resolutions but it comes to no avail.
What price is there for the innocent ? Who speaks for the tired and weary?
As I walk down a long lonely path faceless silhouettes of people stand motionless and emotionless.
Time has stopped to a place where I wish could be re-visited, where I once held hope .
There’s a time where you come to realize that all your struggles , your cries for help will eventually be heard only when your tears stop.
The silence is more effective than the bellowing out of your torment.
I resign myself to a place of peacefulness and acceptance knowing that inevitably the UN- relenting storm is out of my control.
My foot stands firm and steadfast seeking closure not by my works but by a force stronger than myself.
Clawing desperately to keep my grip on reality I surrender.
I can remember a time where I knew I wasn’t alone, sitting in the quietness of my own thought although I was only but a mere child:
I knew that I wasn’t alone. There was a sense of longing of wanting something bigger than myself, my mind races to an outer-worldly place where all things can be possible.
As I grew I could still hear the whispering of rancid thoughts that flew over and by my head: if the world was so big why did I feel so small?
What significance did I have in a world that I considered myself invisible.
Day after day my thoughts created a universe where I was accepted and loved.
My thoughts became a creation of my own that had names and became people in my invisible world. No one could penetrate them because they could not see.
My characters became a strength all their own.
As I grew my characters took care to stay in a hidden place to protect me from the outside world in which they wanted me to conform to a “normal” reality.
In life you make decisions on being who you are.
In this time and place people lack emotion. Compassion is
very hard trait to find nowadays, peoples hearts have hardened as firm
as solid clay .
There’s a void an emptiness in their eyes , they look right past me as if I am some translucent figure.
Having so many wounds and scars on my body I do not mind that they cannot see me.
-Lisamarie-
There’s a void an emptiness in their eyes , they look right past me as if I am some translucent figure.
Having so many wounds and scars on my body I do not mind that they cannot see me.
-Lisamarie-
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please feel free to message me about how my poems have impacted your life.