Uncertainty
countless times i've misplaced my hope,
in hazardous areas,
which lead to great disappointment.
forceful and loaded tugs on my heart strings
is hope something we have come up with
to console ourselves?
creation of our own truths
is how we deal with the truth.
things don't seem to be getting better
and i'm not pessimist,
believe me,
but is this not tainted by fiction?
dreams, maybe?
how about we give hallucinations
the stage?
no alterations,
give it to me raw,
will it get better?
who is the master of that?
mirror reflection,
is this my
new reality?
heartful lake, allow me to sculpture my own image.
my hands no longer work to repaint
the raw colours shoved in my lens.
rigid between trying harder
and moving on.
YOU ARE READING
Escapism
Poetryit's better to write your thoughts down than voice them to deaf ears that lead to uninterested hearts.
