Too Far Gone
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I'm so far gone that I'm telling the truth. It sounds like a foreign language. "Richard Peck"
Each living being has a birth-to-death cycle,
Existence is steered by pulses above our feeble,
Despite our tries, time neither ceases nor boosts,
This realism cannot be expanded to our disputes.
We dwell on our wildest foe, messing with posterity,
Is a thrilling, extraordinary occurrence a fatuity?
Sustain the flames that compel the plight of blankness,
Our egocentric disease of vanishing into nothingness.
Every day, people ponder why mankind is failing,
Those urged by audacity and vicious whys are winning,
Children lack pride and excitement for our success,
Murder is slaying us, and we will enrage and obsess.
We face conflicts to savor a wise sequel and be joyful,
However, we've lost sight and must now pay the toll,
We're unstable, yet hinder by our moral actions,
Sustain us cease abusing superfluous objects as weapons.
God, assist us to view our guilty scruples and insets?
Or would the blood pour in and suffocate us as insects?
Once we've gone this far, would we anticipate praise?
We are cursed to grip the awful facts of the next days.
In all honesty, we've gone fairly far in this game,
People react angrily, their emotions all the same,
I doubt we'll be spared from the hateful looks,
As I dread, has hate charred our skin and snooks?
I implore you, God, is this world genuinely gone?
Is it trite to assert that we are sure that far gone?
What insane quest? What is our escape strategy?
What kinds of spirits? What kind of mad analogy?
I'm absurdly far gone to envision, and it's spun,
I'm overly far gone to ever forget what've done,
I've split every one of my ties and none staying,
Too far to fall, too much trouble for straying.
Why don't you call or write your mother?
They're waiting; don't behave in an odd rougher,
Were you attempting to demonstrate something?
This year's vocalist is a dancer of promising.
I no longer fear infinity, meadows, and rivers,
Time is dying in the splendid light of the future,
The key wheel is pivoting in the opposite heading,
The waves spread, and the coming ocean is speeding.
Written: July 04, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2022
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