Nameless

Yet ANOTHER poem I wrote a long time ago.

What is life? 

Why does ones appearance effect who the hell they are.

 According to me people are only who they make themselves out to be. 

Some are the ones who keep my in check,

 and the rest make me lose faith in the human race. 

The dream of a perfect universe flashes over my mind,

 and over matter. 

I start to cry.

 I realize that the only one who’s still standing there, 

the dark empty shadow of my life.

 The other people have left, and moved on, 

while I am stuck in the past.

 Bring me to the present.

 Bring me away from the horrible people that have damaged me. 

And I shall sell you my soul.

Author's Note

Lemme know what you think

Reviews

[Bluemerlin]

This sounds quite cyclical to me, and let me explain why. In the beginning, you mention that people are represented by some mixture of what they appear to be and what they make themselves out to be. But it seems that either way, all of these people have abandoned you in the past, whether by appearance or by effort of personality. You offer your soul in order to catch up.

But what makes this cyclical is that there are others beside yourself stuck in the past. By selling your soul and moving forward, by making yourself out to be something different than what you once were, how are you any different from those who hurt you? Who would you leave in the dust, stuck and staring at their shadow? What happens when they sell their soul to catch up with you? Does it end? Can you sell your soul more than once, to catch up again, to remove yourself from the new past?

Anyway, rambling aside, I very much liked this, good show.