My friends, I stand in shame. I stand, but just barely. My shoulders are sinking under all the weight of things that shouldn't matter, and there is no excuse for how fast I am shrinking. I am the one at fault, the one to blame. I deserve no sympathy and should gain no support. This, whatever this is, is not anywhere close to being about me. I have always been a selfish being, no matter how much I try to give, I am an arrogant, assumptive, noncommittal catalyst for disaster. Even now, I can feel myself writing my self into this paragraph. I am leaking through the words, and dripping with hypocrisy.
It takes a lot to know a man. It takes a lot to understand. It takes a lot to breath, to touch, to live.
My friends, oh my friends, you are crumbing around me. I am trying to hold each and every one of you together, but so many of you have embraced the fall. You have become addicted to the weight of your blankets at two in the afternoon. You have taught yourself to love the fact that you hate. At the same time, you hate the way you cannot love, and you despair at three in the morning, when the sun refuses to rise and the moon has fallen from its graces.
It takes a lot to give. I takes a lot to know what to feel. It takes a lot rise, to believe, to hope.
What am I supposed to do. What am I supposed to do? I don't know, I don't understand. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I've tried, I have, I promise, and believe me, I know its nowhere near good enough. There is no romanticizing my existence. I will never actually contribute to humanity. And that's okay, because I refuse to live long enough to disappoint the world more than I already have.
It takes a lot to die, It takes more to live.
YOU ARE READING
Revelations
PoesiaIt was really me. It was really you. There was really nothing we could do. To put it concisely, these are short, philosophical situations, feelings, and thoughts of different persons and personalities I've encountered.
