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Shower Thoughts
i can give you anything, i said
so…you made me give you everything.
it’s the same as taping up a cracked window
or using staples to fix a hole in your dress.
it’s not fixed
just hidden
if not made more visible.
i wish i were a hot air balloon
soaring through the sky
never too close or far,
around the world, i’d fly.
i need the taste of freedom on my tongue
or else i’ll never be satisfied
but i guess that’s too bad, because as long as i’m here
i’ll never be unbound from any harm or deny.
i love this, i love that
well i guess love lost purpose then
why am i like this?
i sit in my room
the lights are off
the air is chilly but warm.
i shiver
as if a spirit has made its way
through the depths of my soul.
when i look in the mirror
i hate what i see.
i want to see just a bit clearer
and then leave myself be.
i have friends
but i’m lonely.
is that bad?
i don’t particularly
feel upset about it
so should i be sad?
give me pixie dust,
a shower of sparkles.
i want to live life
in a way that’s surreal
and whimsical.
i am in love with
the idea of what life should be,
not what it is for me.
my music pumps through my blood
but my emotions; instead they flood.
i feel like a cage of water
but i guess that’s weird
because water flows right out
the bars of a cage.
it’s so cold.
the air, life…
everything.
i am like cake.
you take a bite of me
and say-
okay
that was interesting
tinkerbell has always been there for peter.
and peter?
he chose wendy.
i’m not living.
i’m just surviving.
what should i be giving?
i just wish to be thriving…
let me tell you a secret, she says
but she never does
and i’m left wondering…
i know no one has to give up
the crumbling wall of shadows
that differentiate us
but at least take off the mask
or just a layer
so we’re exposed to each other’s
true selves.
we should all have our own 30 second trailers
so we can see what we’re getting ourselves into
before actually mixing with the drama
and karma
of this so called
‘life’.
is death just darkness?
just a void?
a sad abyss
that we succumb to?
why are we forbidden from obtaining the answers to life?
no one cares about anything else.
no one should care about anything else.
when i take a shower
i can’t seem to balance
the heat of the water.
it goes cold
then too hot.
is this a sign of real life imperfection?
nothing is real.
it’s an illusion.
i’m not here
you’re not here
we’re not here
and we shouldn’t be here, either.
good morning,
good night.
it’s all good, i guess.
whatever.
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i wrote this poem to emphasize the common confusion of what the meaning of life is. honestly, i don't know either, but it was fun writing about it. is it too long or confusing to read?