is there anything more depressing
and more of a letdown
than the challenge of looking to life knowing the idea set by others of one has drowned out all manner of one’s own standing to the where abouts of their own being
so that what remains is pale and frail to all suggestions
a disaster waiting to happen
with their ego pretty demented they allow the devastation to resolve their inner character
so as to market themself as a cleaned off chalkboard
without so much as an identity as a shifting of waves in water
ever is it different
always is it struggling to find its voice
there are no more forms of assualt they can take which doesn’t damage the whole of their entire
a dire cycle remains in this vast mark
a constant building up that seems in a hurry to come down
where should the strength to compose something more come from
can one look pass all the crushing stress and carve out a will of pressure so significant it breathes new life in the hold most would assume a living demise
don’t be too curious to wonder too far off because as with anyone it dwells inside
one as any as all