Every day we are subjected to suicide.
A death quicker than one by cyanide,
But the pain will ne'er disappear,
Like how forgotten dreams never reappear.
Every day we forsake a part of ourselves,
Mute ideals expected to speak for themselves.
Hope breaks down to tears
When the world's mockery is all it hears.
Men who stick to ideals are questioned of their sanity?
Curse this deluded drunk World and its vanity!
Most people born blind...
Taught to act kind.
Pain being unbiased mercilessly slays the clans
The ones distant or familiar to the world's cruel plans.
But what of it?
No one wants to get out of this wretched pit!
YOU ARE READING
My horizon's view
PoesíaMy collection of poems, I started writing poetry and fell in love with it. I intend to write philosophical poems but I may stumble or stray, so kindly bear with my insanity. Thank you for your time. Feel free to give me opinions, advices and I'm alw...
