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Tuesday, February 1, 2011
So much of our lives we spend with
an internal monologue our only company
grinding at the loneliness inside.
But don't worry, it's not just you.
This is how everyone feels sometimes.
So you're not alone those hours every day,
when you're so very alone
and nobody cares.
We do care. We all know what it's like,
feeling lonely. We're just busy,
worrying about our own loneliness, just like you.
We're each all too familiar
with the dark pit of despair.
It'd be easy enough to climb out of,
if only someone out there, would lend you a hand up;
which they'd surely do,
if they'd ever just see you there in it.
Nobody's ever interested in you,
physically or intellectually,
it's what you want more than anything
what we all do,
but you're just another cog to them,
one more human obstacle
to be dealt with or avoided.
When you are stabbed again and again,
by the frustration and pain,
despair and hate,
We all know how that feels.
We all know the fantasies that bloom,
your mind shying away from the dangerously possible,
sliding to the bigger ideas, the better catharsis.
Dream of rending the planet,
ripping the whole thing to shreds with your hands,
tearing civilization till it pops at the seams,
smooshing all the little bits that fall off,
crushing everyone and everything,
and bringing an end to the worthless world that has no time or patience
for someone like you, and your pathetic loneliness.
The loathing and rage
shrieking and screaming inside
while outside you're ever more civil, more quiet and numb.
madness and chaos,
venom and bile,
fiery and fury,
fatigue, and exhaustion.
Don't worry, it isn't just you.
I feel that way too sometimes. We all do.
Even if you never tell anyone,
We all still understand.
By Turtle Shell
--------------------
One of 2-1-11's "We live so much of our lives without telling anyone." poems.
an internal monologue our only company
grinding at the loneliness inside.
But don't worry, it's not just you.
This is how everyone feels sometimes.
So you're not alone those hours every day,
when you're so very alone
and nobody cares.
We do care. We all know what it's like,
feeling lonely. We're just busy,
worrying about our own loneliness, just like you.
We're each all too familiar
with the dark pit of despair.
It'd be easy enough to climb out of,
if only someone out there, would lend you a hand up;
which they'd surely do,
if they'd ever just see you there in it.
Nobody's ever interested in you,
physically or intellectually,
it's what you want more than anything
what we all do,
but you're just another cog to them,
one more human obstacle
to be dealt with or avoided.
When you are stabbed again and again,
by the frustration and pain,
despair and hate,
We all know how that feels.
We all know the fantasies that bloom,
your mind shying away from the dangerously possible,
sliding to the bigger ideas, the better catharsis.
Dream of rending the planet,
ripping the whole thing to shreds with your hands,
tearing civilization till it pops at the seams,
smooshing all the little bits that fall off,
crushing everyone and everything,
and bringing an end to the worthless world that has no time or patience
for someone like you, and your pathetic loneliness.
The loathing and rage
shrieking and screaming inside
while outside you're ever more civil, more quiet and numb.
madness and chaos,
venom and bile,
fiery and fury,
fatigue, and exhaustion.
Don't worry, it isn't just you.
I feel that way too sometimes. We all do.
Even if you never tell anyone,
We all still understand.
By Turtle Shell
--------------------
One of 2-1-11's "We live so much of our lives without telling anyone." poems.
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