Everything is too much the same
I'm a goldfish, round and round in my bowl
With a fake plant and the distorted world behind glass
Not a glimmer of happiness to my name
I'm no longer shimmering gold
Loneliness has turned me sickly and gray
I wonder if today will be different
It isn't
It never is
Every thing is too much the same
I'm a broken record, round and round again
With the same song echoing in my head
In an empty room, I play, ashamed
I'm no longer high-tech and brilliant
Misuse has turned be broken and useless
I wonder if tomorrow will be blessed
God's apology
It isn't
It never is
Every thing is too much the same
Patterns, the same patterns, again and again
On repeat, same edition, different colors
My heart has lost its flame
I'm no longer full of hopes and dreams
They're downed in the droning
Monotony owning
My every day
But wait! I am a goldfish
Sickly and gray
What more is there to lose?
What comes after today
If I sit still?
The same old, same old,
Same.
It is up to me to make a change
Now I'm a goldfish,
Heaving on the countertop,
Flailing and fighting
And dying.
At least it's different.
YOU ARE READING
Misty (a collection of my poetry) {{COMPLETE}}
PoetryA road trip of poetry, I guess. Care to come along? Highest rank: 267 in poetry Read my third poetry book, "hush." I have high hopes for it. Read my first poetry book, "where the bluebirds aren't." (Or don't, it's old and rather embarrassing). ⚠️...
