Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Stoic

Stoic

I really don’t mind.
I just wish that the others wouldn’t mind either,
Because when it hits me that it’ll never change,
It hits hard,
And there’s the claustrophobic rain of sadness.
I am no longer in love with my sadness,
I’d actually venture to say that it is real close to annoying me.
Worse than the period, it hits twice a week,
Sometimes twice every three weeks when luck is on ones side.
In any case,
I don’t mind your smiling faces,
I still love you all,
I’m just searching intently for a point,
Without a point I am lost.
I dislike being lost, confused, or in error.
So I am stoic;
Waiting for the hour of lamenting to pass,
And please keep in mind, 
I do not fret for myself,
It’s the hopelessness of the future of our species that engulfs me with desuetude.
(misforgiving)
I know that I am nothing in a world of individuals who all think they are special.
My condemning point is that every single one of us are beyond special,
Beyond our own fragile vessel.
Every human is capable of the conscience decision of love over hate,
Yet most don’t follow that decision to the very end of the path.
They stray like sheep, engulfing like the same.
I wish that I could help but my brain spits a thousand thoughts at me and my hand has to choose words, and write them.
Three words later I’ve thought six thousand thoughts.
Welcome to my world.
Humans are not by nature socialist beings,
They’re more like the wolf, forever roaming (when free) in packs.
If I am human, where is my pack?
 I know that I am human simply because I wonder,
Too much it seems, for it is killing me,
Yet I suppose the ignorant die as well.
I think of the world we could have if all freed themselves from their selves.
Brightness and Tranquility.
Yet I am here, alone, struggling to keep myself awake;
Alive.
2002

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