Gloomy Sunday Peoms by Ivy Bernet (book club suggestions .txt) π
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- Author: Ivy Bernet
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I want others to see and understand the same things I do.
But is it right to want them to see the unrest and pain I see?
Especially if that means they will end up as miserable as me?
What if I told others to close their eyes?
Would they stay purely innocent of how this world really is?
What if I kept them from seeing the truth?
Which I have learned to despise.
Would it make a difference?
Would that make me a better person?
Saving one innocent soul.
Or would they be just as ignorant as I believe the rest of the world to be?
Could I actually help people?
or would I become the one corrupting them?
But Why not?
Do people really deserve the right to decide for themselves?
Especially when they donβt care about the outcome?
Why should those who want to remain innocently ignorant
be trouble by those who donβt?
And why should they be giving a choice if they only end up hurting themselves?
But then again maybe I really am the foolish one.
What if everyone already sees is it?
What If I am the only one that simply cares?
Do others share my cluttered mind and thoughts?
Is anyone else as desperate for the truth as I am?
Do they feel alone and scared, or are they strong and determined?
Maybe, like me, they donβt really know what to feel?
I shout βWhere is our proof?β
But then where is our answer?
But then why even write?
Will I ever hear any reply?
No.
This world is cold, hurtful, deceiving, and a liar.
But is this society, or is this crazy?
Then again I believe we have become accustom to crazy.
It is like a home we run to.
And no matter how much we hate it;
Crazy is familiar, warm, and safe.
And when we no longer need it, it is thrown to the side.
And like a good parent no matter how far we try to run Crazy will always find us.
It finds us in our weakest state and begs for control.
And we give it control, because secretly we all long for a little Craziness.
However is it a secret if I know?
And if I tell you is it still a secret?
I suppose it isnβt.
You just refuse to see it.
On Irony
We can sit on the sidewalk
Just to two of us
And watch birds bath in a puddle
You turn to me and say
Society may have destroyed the trees that these birds lived in
But at least they have a nice birdbath now.
And I laugh
Not because I think you're funny
But because I find more hilarity in life's little ironies than in you
You tell me you think the birds are beautiful
And you could watch them all day
You love the way the water ripples as they splash
However there are many things you don't care for
Like the flies buzzing around the garbage can next to us
Or the ant I just blew off your arm
You also hate my dirty nails
And the way I look before I cry
And my curly hair
On Loved Ones Leaving
βI will come back.β You tell me
You swear βWe will always be together.β
You reach out to comfort but I pull away
You continue repeating other unoriginal lines
That, frankly, I have heard many times before
Iβm not angry anymore, neither am I sad
I have seen many others leave before you
Just as I will meet someone else when youβre gone
When they leave they will recite the same used lines as you do now
Maybe you will actually come back, but I doubt it
For it would be a first time it has ever happened
And even if you come back you will never be the person I know now
For I would never forget that you left me
But fret not for I will think of you nostalgically
I will tell the next one I meet stories of us
But they will be romanticized and unrealistic
And in the end you will just fade into memory
You will become another reminder that I should not become attached
Especially to things that are meant to last a lifetime
On My Hopes For OthersI hope that one day you will find someone who listens to you
They will be there to comfort you when youβre hurt
Console you when your courage has failed
They will never feel like you are burdening them
And they will never forsake you
I hope that one day you can rise in the morning
Without feeling like the world is conspiring against you
And you donβt long to return to your dreams
For your waking life is much better than any fantasy,
Your subconscious could derive in blissful slumber
And your nightmares are no longer commonplace
I hope one day you will not feel like you need to cry anymore
That your life is filled with such joys your heart swells
And tears are forced to become nothing more than a memory
The only weeping you will do is that out of gladness
I hope that one day you will find a place for yourself
Where you no longer feel like you need to prove anything
That you are safe and content in everything you do
You no longer hunger for the pointless attention of outsiders
And you feel comfortable in your own skin.
I hope that one day you will not think of your end
You will not wonder on what swift wing it comes
Or pray for Deathβs cold touch to sweep you from this colder world.
That you will not think of committing an unpardonable sin
I hope that one day you will forgive others
You will forget the cruel torments of people
That you will absolve your hatred towards society
That you will pardon the coldness of those clamming to love you.
And most of all I hope that one day you can accept yourself
You will forgive yourself for everything others have long ago
You will see yourself as the beautiful creation of fate that you are
You will no longer think that you do not deserve to be loved
And you will find happiness in this world
Because you are worthy of that
On The Pain Of OtherβOh my dear sweet angel.
Dare not to cry
For you are the sweets apple ever seen in my eye.β
I tell you as you bite your lip,
Feel your chin quiver,
And harden your cheeks for the inevitable tears.
I whisper quietly as the wind into your ears.
βEverything will be alright
And all is as it should be.β
Whether either of us truly believe what I say is irrelevant.
Because it is a lie
So I will continue to try
But regardless of my efforts you will always cry.
How could you not?
How can you possible stop the flow of clear crystals down your cheeks?
For you have swallowed a dangerous mixture of lies and hopes.
You will always drink the glass of promises life gives you with gratitude.
Then curse life for its cruel tortures.
But fret not my love
For just as you continuously drink the cup of suffering
I will always be here to watch your pain.
On Villians
How do you know when youβve become the villain?
Is it when you realize youβre a monster?
Or when you start to enjoy being a monster?
Is it when you see that no one notices you?
Or when you appreciate that you donβt care?
Is it when you see that your core is corrupted?
Or when grasp the evil within you?
Is it when others say youβve lost your way?
Or when your heart is broken beyond repair?
Is it when you feel a fiend inside you?
Or when you let your demon take over?
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