Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Downfall

Living on the edge of his seat
And trying to compete
Beyond his means
Exactly like what it seems

The inevitable downfall
Of this ridiculous outlaw
Was foreshadowed by the ominous clouds
Surrounding his outer wall

The pressures of this society
Make a man fall quietly
Hit the ground without a sound
As spectators look around
Curious as to the cause
Of this man's deathly pause
Breed confusion and fear
Don't wait for the applause

Why did he drop
The questions don't stop
The pretense of a life well lived
goes pop
His internal struggle
Unknown to us all
Made this long moment further stall

Who and What
Where, When, and Why
Did this man fail to touch the sky
Bogged down in the sewage of his own creation
Choked by his world, caused a death of frustration
A sad man's sorrow, cannot wait till tomorrow
The will to go on, is not a thing to be borrowed

At least the deceased
Can enjoy a cease of increase
And spend the rest of their days
Resting in peace
No more pressure
No more pain
No more tension 
No more strain

Hopefully this, will make them all see
That the only way for man to live
Is to live free

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