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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Why? That is all that I ask.



Why do I bother listening

Ever so intently

To the overdramatic tragedies of men and women

That echo through the minds of the candid philanthropists

And the evil doers who revel in their sorrow


Why do I ponder upon the thoughts 

That grace the brinks of shame and guilt

That pry upon the open wounds of those who have suffered And felt



Why do I dwell in the realm of sorrow 

Becoming ever so weak and frugal

Balancing on the delicate ideals and blurry thoughts

Of those who live in lachrymosity


But most of all

Why do I dwell on a humane hope

One that will deliver me from an evil that none can see

None can feel or see its palpability

Because everyone creates that evil

They are that evil

So ancient with the cries of those before it

Who perished in the ominous moans of the deep


Why do I stay in this place

So tenaciously holding on

To the tenuous strands of the past

Only to hurt myself more

In the regret and remorse 

Of the eternal emptiness of human being



But going along with the common theme of people

Who ignorantly deceive themselves with false nostalgia

And the unfulfilling sustenance of pleasure 

I shall snuff out my questions

My reasoning and my differentiation and my desire for the truth



No matter

It never really mattered anyway.

Submitted: May 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 LukeJames. All rights reserved.

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