random thought, writing

these days


these days,

when i can’t manufacture a feeling

and i can fake it no longer

but we still go through the motions


these days,

when my heart is heavy like a sandbag

and it aches for something

not knowing what that something is


we’re searching

searching with a compass

but we’re reaching, grabbing in the dark


these days there is a deep sadness

that blankets the hearts of men

but there is also dignity, and madness

for the hope to which we cling tightly


these days there are clouds like freight trains

moving fast overhead

and with them come storms

and flowers

growing wild everywhere


these days i cannot hold on tight enough

to the moments that drift quickly away like butterflies


these days when i’m just as much to blame as anyone


these days,

my eyes both feed me and deceive me

and i am strangled by my own hand


these days when all the systems of man fail

yet we still place our hope in folly


these days when the wise are foolish, and foolish wise


these days while we wait in anguish for redemption

forgetting that we’ve already been redeemed.




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