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I really have no idea if the things I right are actual poems. I just right down my thoughts and feelings but not in any kind of poem template.
I took something I wrote recently and put it into poem "form", so if there is something I did wrong with the format, I'd appreciate any help.
If it had a title it would be Grey Again
Looking outside into the dark light,
I can’t help but feel that here,
In this falsely lit room surrounded by the material,
I am drowning in the true gray of the world.
Out there I can see nature,
I can see truth,
In here I can only see the illusion,
I can only feel the lie.
Trapped in the moral prison,
We have created for ourselves,
We hide from human nature,
In order to please the mentally insane.
Who is it we are trying to impress?
Who is it we are trying to be?
And how long will nature allow us to defy it?
The farther away we move from human nature,
The more sick I feel.
Tirelessly asleep and perfectly ill,
With no signs of sickness,
Other then what I can feel.
There is something not right,
Something wrong with the way we pretend.
Has it consumed us?
How will it end?
__________________
"It's hard to face reality when you're busy living in the American Dream."
Vicariously I
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