Shadow Poetry

Lamp Light

when we take to the streets

no one will know our names

but they will chant our cause

and the lights will never go out


the lamps are burning

off our dead weight

the oil long gone

siphoned by the empty promises

doomed to be repeated

when all the lights go out


is it naive to believe

in happily ever after?

everyone believes

in the end


is it naive to believe

we are here for a purpose?

leaving dead skin cells

as my trail

so you can find me

when i’m lost

when i’m stuck

or is it all just void?

no point at all

i think not


when i wake

in the dead of night

searching for the reasons

i cannot find

remind me


hold me

until the gaping abyss

can no longer see me


take the truth

massage it into my skin

so i can remember

what we are fighting for


By Daphne Shadows

Stream of Consciousness

You Won’t Understand When You’re Older

We got ripped off.

As kids, everyone was telling us that we’d understand when we got older.

Sure, I understand some more delicate things that kid brains don’t, but life in general? It’s gotten fuzzier, more complicated.

More vague, less defined.

The older I get, the more I’m exposed to, the more I experience – the more confusion rolls in with fogs of doubt and shades of grey.

I thought we’d make sense of things. Make sense of ourselves.

I feel like it’s the opposite.

Now, I just feel lost.

In the world and when it comes to my sense of identity.

 

Is there a tipping point?

Do I simply need to get older?

More experience?

Or is it truly a lie?

 

I think I may have just sniffed out some naive hope. That that tipping point will hit, I’ll come out the other side with some sense of what’s what.

 

Or perhaps there is no defining moment. No quota of life lived to unlock an inner sense of stability and knowing.

Maybe I have to figure this out, define myself for myself. Scrape away all the dead skin cells of pain and brainwashing and unhealthy neural pathways – and keep rebuilding.

 

But when will I stop feeling lost?

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