Shallowed Polar Ponds

I am so very tired Of death so endured, Of people winning races And sickness being cured. I grow so cold Of these repetitive pleas. Their meaningless exasperations And every cliche deed. I'm hating all the rhymes And metaphors inside With bitterness for blinds Who wish only to be deaf. I'm sinking in these poems Of love that only roams To find one puzzled home Of a love that never loved. We're all just too the same For playing time old games Of pretending to be tame When our lives are all a bore. Our secrets slightly scheme Our sinning souls be not redeemed. Our lies are ripping at the seams Of the masks we comfortably wear On a clouded blurry web site Where we pretend to feel so bare.