Shallowed Polar Ponds
I am so very tired
Of death so endured,
Of people winning races
And sickness being cured.
I grow so cold
Of these repetitive pleas.
Their meaningless exasperations
And every cliche deed.
I'm hating all the rhymes
And metaphors inside
With bitterness for blinds
Who wish only to be deaf.
I'm sinking in these poems
Of love that only roams
To find one puzzled home
Of a love that never loved.
We're all just too the same
For playing time old games
Of pretending to be tame
When our lives are all a bore.
Our secrets slightly scheme
Our sinning souls be not redeemed.
Our lies are ripping at the seams
Of the masks we comfortably wear
On a clouded blurry web site
Where we pretend to feel so bare.
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