Shades of grey grace the sky
I'm trapped in a repetitive, melancholy
Prison called life
Forced to go about the mundane
Tasks meant for a normal person
Life isn't living
Survival is pointless
A prison of bleak, unchanging boredom
Alone, a man and his thoughts
No friends
No relief
Depression has set in
Pretty problems fill the limited days
Until a death breaks the cycle
His life has been blessed with no love
Sleeping on the streets
Survival in body
Suicidal in mind
Wondering if there is a god
And how one could leave him abandoned
Dirty, undeserved was his survival
Living out his days with fears
A fear of after this torturous oblivion
A fear of another betrayal
Living for nothing
His unbroken nothingness of a life
Wasted was a man in a universe
A universe where he had no chance
For anything better than survival
Especially not prosperity
Sadness filled him through a death
Well deserved
In a world as vast as this
He meant nothing
He will not be missed
Gravity still functions
The sun still shines
You still breathe
But all people die eventually
But when will I
And when I do
Will I be important in the grand scheme
YOU ARE READING
Almost
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry that I wrote about insanity and other dark themes.
