We fight, and we squabble but for what?
At times I wonder and question the sky.
I loathe... Isn't it enough?
You ask why the salty water burns your skin, you ask why she cries.
She doesn't know but her heart is heavy.
Let it pass, stay headstrong, so many directions to head to and which one she chooses is still undecided.
But isn't that a choice?
How can she breathe and see in all this noise, so she puts on her headphones and goes through life with a blank stare.
She speaks in prose and metaphor and the question of the world, but inside... It's hollow.
Bare.
What am I-- she--...
What? Why?
Just let her die...
Cast the thought aside and fight!
But why do I become ever so weak standing?
Give me your burdens give me your fears and I'll carry you through it.
Though she never says a word of how its too much... She's scared...
It's too much.
Too much is enough.
YOU ARE READING
Dichotomy
PoetryThe observant is always watching. Humanity is here and thriving, but our world won't be surviving our reign. Alive, but not noticed in living. Here we are. A new life, new words, a new start. Aug. 12th 2019 - June 18th 2021 Vol. 1
