Oh horror, to be and not to be;
To live and live so pointlessly.
what is the point for Me to BE
if I am wretched, lost? You see
I hate myself, I hate my life,
I hate I hate, yet hate the strife
within that will not tell me WHY
I hate it all. I will not die;
I do not wish to end this pain.
I want to understand - to gain
a point from knowing pointlessness
for the cruel lie and thief it is.
Pointlessness is such a thief
of time, of hope, and even grief.
It tells you you should just go cry,
And while you're at it, why not die?
Pointlessness is such a liar,
With pitch-black eyes and tongue on fire
To consume every desire,
And every joy which you aspire.
Pointlessness is everything
subject to will and whim. You bring
It into your own head, and sing
"I'm empty, therefore I'm nothing."
Why do you want to be so pointless,
When you hate that you are pointless?
"To be or not to be, when being is but woe,
For being holds out bated breath, it proves that we
DON'T know."
We don't even know what we don't know,
and as the clock ticks, sure and slow,
We ask the world, "What SHOULD we know?"
And seeking answers: "Where should we go
To find the Know we know we need?"
I'd give my heart, I'd gladly bleed
To know what I should understand
To see the hand that is at hand
And see that it is what it ought to be.
Someone, kill me.
I cannot take-
"If I am pointless, what's the point?"
I think my brain is out of joint.
YOU ARE READING
Ikigai
PoetryI had to let go to grasp my loss. I had to get lost to find my way. I had to fall to stand for what's right. I had to leave the old To arrive at the new. This is my journey from goodbye to farewell.
