Pondering what could be and would be Poem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Well was talking to someone on Wire Club and this person was saying that i should hope and dream still, when things are bad. But this isnt right in reality, it is just a pretty comment to try and comfort me but this doesnt sit well on my soul. So i wrote this poem.

Submitted: February 04, 2011

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Submitted: February 04, 2011

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How can fantasy be so different from reality taking you to dimensions you never seen

erasing all memories of another life that was at some point a part of yourself

How can a blink of an eye, just disappear without a cry?

People have said, Hope will give you all the things you need in life yet this doesn’t comfort who I am

I know in my heart, that hope just puts fiction into your knowledge of life building up lies and delusions for a future that will never be

Yet how can these people give word to these utter lies?

Does this sit well inside their souls? Does this make them a better person? Thinking that this will make them who they are today?

I really don't have that answer only a sinking doubt of turmoil that resides inside this pitiful little girl

I have dreamed and wished that all things would be better

But here again, fantasy and reality are altogether just a spiraling doom

I wake up from hellish nightmares chasing away hopes and dreams that were once inside this girl only to substitute those feelings into what was suppose to be

Maybe I'm making things up like some have put into this deflated head

I sit here, pondering on what could be and would be thinking sure, life is grand

yet the world around me crashes into a grimsome tomb

encaging this once magnificent butterfly to dreams that will never come to be only to put in her, what a world she sees instead

how can she make this go away? Is this reality? Or is this a nightmare as well to never be let free of the things that hold her down?

She has believed that this world she lives in is just a test, that God will surly come for her and whisk her away to Heaven

making all these illusions of her so called life just a mere nightmare, that she couldnt wake up from

Maybe this is doubt again, creeping inside like an acid that spills from deep inside.

Who knows these answers that haunt her ever waking body?

Who can heal her from a bitter and angry torment that is slowly consuming who she is

Is there any relief to these kind of burdens? Is there any comfort of knowing what will come and what will not? Will any lies quiet my mind and comfort my broken heart?

When I finally come out of a delusional state I know that none of these questions lie within myself but only come forward, when someone asks me these things only will I let myself sink further into this depression


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