False Vacuum
My microcosmos is really a false vacuum.
It may eventually collapse.
I read an article floating in the wind.
I become an unwritten novel.
I watch the ants carry the breadcrumbs
into the dismal soil leading into another world.
I look outside seeing pockets of pain.
I yearn to jettison out of my world on a jet.
A long voyage around the liquid abyss
where silent screams emanate.
The light dims outside.
I await deliverance from Epic Error.
All may eventually collapse into scurrilous beliefs
created by scoundrels.
Am I greater than the sum of my fragments?
I'm too exhausted to answer this.
Persistence is futile in the Kingdom of Pain.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
