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Love
Is it real?
Or is it just a wondrous dream
Created by the minds of those
Who have no better way to pass the time?
Time.
Is it truly as short as we say?
Or do we live on in the memories left behind
Of all that we have said and done?
Hate.
Is it as raw an emotion as it seems?
Or is it more of a raging fire,
Uncontrollably burning everything in sight?
Life.
Is it so mysterious?
Or did we find the missing piece
and kick it aside like trash?
Sorrow.
Is there a way to stop it?
Or will it freeze our souls,
And harden our hearts until we no longer care?
Questions.
Are there answers to any of them?
Or must we continue to live our lives in ignorance,
And act as the puppets that so many of us are?
Someday, my strings will be cut and I'll be out of this farce called society: free to soar above the clouds that obscure our lives.
I wrote this in history class the day before christmas break. Like many of my friends, writing poetry and stories is my outlet for the emotions that overcome us in our lives. There are many reasons behind this certain poem, and poetry is a bit out of my element, but I'm getting better at it! smile
 greendaygirl-5252- · Thu Jan 03, 2008 @ 09:11pm · 1 Comments |
