This is a quick Sunday poem that I really need to write. There's no steady rhyme. It's just, idea stacking.
red and stacked high, the walls box me in
Pushing me back, not letting me win
let me get what I want, I cry quietly
but it just stares back, blank and heartless.
I peer through the gap, and out at what's there
others sitting, connecting, with ideas to share
But stuck in between, distress and regret
I can see it so clear, they'll all just forget
They've said this, and that, time after time
their desires realised - what about mine?
Now blocking my path, is a large brick wall
Shutting them out, or hiding them all.
Growing weary and dreary, with age and depression
Just what do we want from this chat session?
For time to be killed, to forget about life
Or spread our sad truths, of heartbreak and strife.
red and stacked high, the walls box me in
Pushing me back, not letting me win
Give me the chance to leave your cruel hold
It continues to stack, looming, and bold.
This was just a poem about a metaphor I thought about a few days ago. The metaphor was more or less about the distance between who you speak to over the internet - and how, this distance is the "wall" between you.
The usual stupid bullshit from me really.
Whatever.
I'll write something happy and lighthearted for you one day, I promise.
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