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Been turning myself to blue and green,

Trapping and locking myself in this fucking cage


And I can't, I cannot, I will not

Let you in here.

Nothing more can rely on me.

And i will spend my days putting stoicism and serenity on pedestals,

And I will be hopeless and choked

And my heart will be lurching

And it passed right by me,

But I realise now that no hand is solid enough to hold on to

And i discredited everyone I knew who was wilfully present.

Such separation

Between my perceptions and my shackling

To the harsh and cold and unemotional truth,

and it leaves me reeling in the void between.


sad poemspoemamateurtrapped

◄ burning out

Ode to night ►


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Tue 23rd Jan 2018 19:14

Cheers! To the Stoics! To Zeno! To Marcus Aurelius! Who write that we should avoid ourselves. We should avoid the poets. We should avoid the false nourishing sweet comfort at hopes table for unsalted truths. For the poets inventions however fragrant, aromatic, perfumed are in the end less digestible and more painful. Love is for poets...Leave it and resentment for them........Parenthetically, as a Stoic - I fail. No matter how armor clad the skin of my emotion, there is always an opening... Cheers!

Thanks for the read...

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