Why didn’t you move forward when you had the chance?
An illusion of solace now far from your glance.
There’s a winding backdrop from all that you’ve known,
From all that you’ve bled for, all that you’ve shown.
Visions still move softly in your sleep,
When you wake up screaming from tears you weep.
Gripes are pandering your every move,
Just dance with the rhythm, get with the groove.
Squeezing through that hollow crack,
Well for Renaissance literature you have a knack.
Still searching for meaning and purpose abound,
But dirt and jealousy are all that you’ve found.
They’ll pick up your wisdom once you’re in space,
But in your abyssal cavity you’re just a disgrace.
Stained glass windows paint a portrait of your life,
Tunnel vision locks on to the moments of strife.
Is it more fruitful to be deaf and blind,
As a valuable excuse for you to find?
Planting your seeds and watching them grow,
From a tv screen of your favourite show.
But fear not, for your oblivious wake,
The abstraction of splotches that you can’t shake.
Introspective Poetry 