Mingling with Chaos

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  • Confusion

    Mingling with Chaos

    I'm standing in the middle of my own world, looking out upon this vast sea of darkness called life, trying to find someone, anyone who will slide on these size nines and put on my bifocals for a change. Maybe then somebody would understand what I'm going through. I call it beautiful sadness. I let my thoughts float and my dreams drift in order to cope with reality. And rain is only perfect if you have someone to share it with. If you're alone then it's just another rainy day. I chant silently to my self, "Rain, rain go away." "Think happy thoughts." I say. "Don't let them see you cry." Yeah right that's easier said than done. I ponder life as it is and how it could be. It's taking longer to get comfortable though. I see the finishline but I'm too tired to finish the race. Who took away all of my hugs? Who stole all of my kisses? Why am I the only ghost with no treats in his basket? How did this lump of coal get in the mist of all my other wonderful presents? My superficial attributes are conflicting with my inner brightness and intelect, falsely bearing witness to true nightmares. I think so much I run out of breath trying to keep up with my first instinct. Jumbled fixations are causing me to submit to irrational decisions. Irreversible regrets are pushing me past the mistake line and starting a tug- of- war with my charming characteristics. How can I stop the chaos?

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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    smoove09’s Poems (1)

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