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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: House of Ghosts


A poem of the sad ramblings of a teenager, at 10 pm on a Friday night.

Submitted: December 01, 2017

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Submitted: December 01, 2017

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Life is never simple, they told me, they told me, I know.

I just wish they would have mentioned the soul-crushing oblivion that surrounds us.

Held off by the flimsiest of hopes and dreams, like trying to fight a dragon with a single stone.

It overwhelms me, threatens to smother my soul.

Yet no one hears desperate cries for help, once they are dampened and diminished by a hollow mask.

A mask made of happiness and a good, simple life.

Good shouldn't get to be my only choice.

Why can't I strive for greatness?

Oh, you can strive for greatness, my dear, you'll just be tripped up at every single corner of the road.


© Copyright 2018 Thalia Bronwen. All rights reserved.

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