Talk To Me
It’s days like these when it’s hard to cry
That you can have healthy
Conversations
About death
Even when it hurts to talk
Or move
Or the reason you can’t cry is worst
Than curling up into a ball
And reminding incapacitated
For the rest of your day
If you’re like me and feel as if
The only meaningful conversations you have
Are when you’re in this dysfunctional state
Of hysteria
Than this simple concept of conversation
Is not just nice
But necessary
Though the tiest days
Prove to be hopeless
There is always light
In the darkness so bright
That it’s more blinding than it is blind
To be able to have a functional conversation
Can be the point between life and death —
Continuing a pointless legacy
Or succumbing to your thoughts
That are impossibly
More
Useless
Than the ones that bring you
Fractured joy
Lost love
Empty promises
Friendships that prove to be
If little importance now that you have
What?
Common sense?
How about a shred of intelligence?
Self preserving knowledge
Is not
Simple dished out
You must merit it
And I did something to deserve it
And I threw it away
My whole life I’ve seemed to hold
The false belief that it’s me
Against the world
But I’ve come to realize that
it’s not quite that
I’ve been holding onto a partial
Superficial belief about society
Sure
Society sucks
But so do I
I have no reason to believe that my person lump of cells is
Any better than his hers or theirs
It
Just
Is
So no
I’m not only at war with those around me
But with myself to an extent that I had
Never
Fully come to process
And this all started
With a conversation
Copyright © Peter Rosen | Year Posted 2022
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