Poetry of the Anonymous

XXVII - Weight of the World

The constant pressure to conform,

Perpetually drowning you in concrete,

The dreary void of absolution,

Creating constellations as mirrors.

Lies roaming free within the wind,

Lingering on the past or the future,

The present becomes forgotten.

We lost our presence in the present,

As we lived in our minds,

Trapped by the egoistic evolution of our thoughts.

Growing in strength,

Our lives spent contemplating how to survive,

Within this solid vacuum of temptation,

So close the ledge lies,

On the tips of our fingertips,

Seemingly small yet powerful beyond imagination,

Purring and preying on the souls of the weak –

The great irony of nurture and nature:

We were not born weak; we were made weak –

We will die weak; as we couldn't make ourselves strong –

The great fallacy of existence:

Born alive; live wishing I were dead –

Die already dead; wandering what if I'd lived –