What Becomes of Words

I think I can only write when I’m sad Because whenever I’m happy I can’t adapt. Which makes me sad, really. So I guess this poem is a testament to that. This poem is a truth. (I plead for it to breathe) This poem is an enemy. (It makes holes for seeds) This poem is… Continue reading What Becomes of Words

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Becoming Productive

(How am I meant to be a normal, productive Member of society When most normal members of society Feel so unproductive?) Waking up to do something Giving you the reason to be something And never needing to know What “something” is. Man justifies his own existence. It’s how you cope. (You devote so much time… Continue reading Becoming Productive