|The Concrete Jungle
Author: CLFreiborg PM
We live in a concrete jungle, where apathy is expected, and any sort of loving gesture, will never be detected.Rated: Fiction T - English - Poetry/Drama - Words: 447 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 04-08-05 - id: 1880708
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"The Concrete Jungle" 4-7-05 By Cassandra Freiborg
We live in a concrete jungle,
where apathy is expected,
and any sort of loving gesture,
will never be detected.
"So it goes." They say,
while people die in wars so long,
that by the time they're over,
humanity doesn't know right from wrong.
Is it the president's,
or the terrorists' ambition,
to slowly drive the world,
into certain perdition?
I wonder if I should confess,
that I've been watching all along,
waiting till the statement "I really love you.",
is just a meaningless phrase of song.
And I wonder if god and heaven,
are as great as they all say,
will my friends and family,
be for me that day?
Because when I die I don't want,
to completely disappear,
I want to know the reasons,
I had to live, love, hate, hurt, fear.
And I want my life to have meaning,
I want my name to be known,
I want everyone to contribute something,
to the place we call our home.
I once heard a band
that really opened up my eyes,
the savage anger and depression,
made me want to fly.
And no one really liked the songs,
because they spoke of hidden feelings,
I only knew two other people,
who understood their meanings.
So it's kept me up at night,
thinking about the secrets that we keep,
why we try to hide them,
thinking we'll bury them real deep.
Apparently it's not true,
they're always just beneath the surface,
I guess it explains why,
I always feel so nervous.
That's why I write poetry,
to keep my thoughts in order,
because all the things inside my head,
keep me teetering on the border.
So how do I choose,
between the jungle of concrete,
or the feelings and the thoughts,
I don't understand enough to keep.
I guess I'm kind of stuck,
between what the world is and what it seems,
right now I wish I could wake up,
from this confusing dream.
Because I want so badly to be held,
but can't stand the thought of a hug,
so foreign to my body,
it reacts like a drug.
Pulling me in softly,
until I finally feel safe,
lulling me into peacefulness,
and then they pull away.
Just another side effect I get,
from all this apathy,
I don't want you to look deep enough,
I don't want you to see.
This thing that I've become,
as on the edge I teeter,
please don't look at me,
I'm a loathsome creature.