I don’t know quite what this is or what you will think of it when you read it.
As you know, I’ve been trying to write poetry to get things out but nothing has manifested itself. My writing is just dying in my hands and I’m not sure what to do with it. There’s probably nothing I can do except to wait it out a bit.
However, I have attempted this in some vague hope that it will pull something through that is more than nothingness.
Despite the breaks, this is all one poem…
The Lost
We are the hopeless hearts –
The tainted ones,
The broken and the false starts.
We are the walking dead
The purposeless
The ones from whom love has fled.
We are the burning souls
The haunted ones
Those who step on heated coals.
We are the troubled youth
The already old
Those who burn forsooth.
We are the forsaken fools
The lost at sea
The faded jewels.
We are those who we are not
And those who we could be
And those who’re forgot.
We wish for what we could have had
And put aside what makes us glad.
We give far more than we receive
That only leaves for us to grieve.
We pass away our helpless love
And seek no virtue from above.
Our lips will be forever cold
From those to whom our hearts are sold.
We give our hands, our hearts, our minds,
To those disaffected kinds.
We struggle with our true desires
Following on to others’ fires.
Living out another life
That inward only gives us strife.
We are the hopeless hearts.
We are the broken starts.
We are the walking dead
Those from whom love has fled.
We are the burning souls
Those who step on heated coals.
We are the troubled youth
Those who burn forsooth.
We are the forsaken fools
The faded jewels…
We are the utter lost…
In case you were wondering, the title of this post is from this verse:
How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d…
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