perspective,
each is different,
you don't expect,
for each to be the same,
because we are detailed,
human beings,
trapped in a prison-like nightmare
the prison,
the knowledge and fact we die,
our crime,
being born.
yet,
we fight,
as it's best said,
"Rage, rage against the dying light"
why?
our prison is merely a hell,
a nightmare sometimes,
yet we fight,
we fight to feel,
the secret to surviving,
are we fight,
we fight to stay alive,
we fight to feel alive,
fight the knife,
the blade is a life long sentence,
to what we try to escape,
to every secret we make,
now coming to light.
the fight is long,
yet worth it,
we may not always win,
but we must listen,
and let the light,
drift us away,
to the only thing that's sure,
we don't fight when that moment comes,
we don't fight for it to come,
we let ourselves drift,
into our restful deathbed.
~!~
I'm so sorry, this is probably really bad, but I wrote this at 3 AM wanting to post something before school started again. I'm sorry I've been horrible at updating. I'm not sure I'll be coming back consistently, but I'll be around.
Thanks so much for reading, guys. I appreciate it and love you all!
BAIII
YOU ARE READING
bittersweet
Poesíacolorful and bittersweet poetry {lowecase intended... sometimes} {found picture on the internet, on Tumblr, please don't sue} ©bookbabere, all rights reserved.