Reads: 622  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

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

Just a poem about struggling.

But only God knows how I feel,
How brittle in the hands of will.
This remote path I chose to take,
So fragile in the hands of fate,
May be destruction, may be heal 
Sure thing is I shall not repeal.
But shall I think no other choice,
I said with quivers in my voice,
Existed truly in this void?
The one who answered me is Freud:
“Where id was, ego shall be”
Did I believe that truthfully?
The answer stands beside of me,
But I can’t reach it so to see
If all the wrongs really turned wrights
Or if my soul lost all the fights.
The “freedom” of society
That had enslaved mentality
The voice of thoughts and the free will
Were subjugated, so to thrill
The humankind, this mass of worth
Worth now less than a bunch of dirt.
In such a dreadful state we are.
My fate will surely leave a scar
On every living creature here.
I must subject my only fear
The one of having my dreams shattered
By nothingness or the empowered
Cause is the world that we must fight
For to be gentle, to be kind.
We all have power, more than they
But somehow we all fade to grey.
I don’t know how, or where&when,
But we shall give the light within
The chance to rise, to flush and burn
The noxious things that we did learn.

God knows how blessed I sometimes feel
But the curse is still on me
And forever will.


Submitted: January 17, 2018

© Copyright 2020 Ramona's. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Ramona's

Poem / Poetry