So my heart does not have life,
no warmth or heat,
but there’s my passion that makes me complete.
Forget love and friendship,
they sway in the wind and weather.
There is no trust in kinship,
it’s like a broken feather,
no beauty –
no beauty that captivates me.
There is no heart in the world.
Apathy floods through the streets,
through the cities that feed my heart beats,
across continents, and through countries.
There are so few I have found with a mind.
Even if I cross the oceans and seas
there will be so few that are kind,
so few that would compassionately give –
so few that morally live.
There is no freedom in life.
Everyone lives with no zen.
Eventually we all will break down and give in.
It seems that no one has form or structure.
There is no peace or rest, only stress.
No one has a plan or future.
They’re all caught in a world decaying to less,
a world falling from hope –
a world falling down an ever steeper slope.















Comments
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.......and it's beautiful
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Each stanza has nine lines, the first line does not have a rhyme, and it's used like a topic sentence in a paragraph. The second and third lines rhyme with each other. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh lines rhyme every other line. The eighth and nineth lines rhyme with each other, and elaborate on the seventh line...so...yeah, that's it, but your right it does have an erraticness to it. and hey, thank you
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-Act on Impulse-
"No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence - that which makes its truth, its meaning - its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live as we dream - alone."
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We're the few that really matter I think. We may never be the politicians to lead and make it known and change anything and do anything to make the world better...but then again if we were such people we'd have to kill ourselves for self-hate
ah, life...
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-Act on Impulse-
"No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence - that which makes its truth, its meaning - its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live as we dream - alone."
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