Empty Cylinders Of Dust

They are all empty cylinders of dust

Weightless, with no souls of their own

They won’t peep into eternity

They’d all die in disgust of just the happy present

Or just in the one good moment they dream of!

Withered creatures, all of them!

They are so blinded, empty eyed,

Empty head, empty futures and with empty lives

Like my poem, incomplete are they

Here, the lines don’t bother to rhyme

That way,

Their Insipidness oozes out of the bodies they hold

In forms of uneven tattered pieces of lust, ego and pride

When they speak with void in words

My heart spins with the unbearable weight

Of false hopes and expectations I have from them

I puke on the floor,

I am nauseated with the triviality

Letting go my part of heart, soul and mind is fine

For, how much would I let them break into splinters and rust?

I cannot let craters form to keep them content

I am no moon and I am not distant

I cannot hide my disappointments

And let them have their superficial smiles

I will scream louder than now

With all the impulse to destroy each one

Who have caused wounds all over me

But maybe I am incapable of the destruction

So someday I’ll just leave

That day the whole universe and you all

Will regret, regret and regret

And then consequently die

But maybe nothing would change even then

Futility would still prevail

Just like it still does at the end of this poem!my_passion_by_refaya-d4zhmi5


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