Living Among Blank Pages

Passing faces- blank.

Murmured voices- weighted.

These ears can’t discern lies from truth

dead ringers set on repeat.

--

Erase it all away,

these memories never meant to stay.

The past forgotten ‘neath the lies

in the presence of these closed eyes.

--

Edges blur,

can’t make out the importance.

Hues fade to grey,

failed to differentiate past versus present.

--

What’s the meaning of this?

Utopia never suited the starving mind.

Wasn’t there something to miss?

Sustenance on these barren pages one can’t find.

--

Time ticks slowly on by.

Suns rise only to die,

bleeding into lives

of those who didn’t survive.

--

This suppressed life strives,

in such desolate places.

How can one write futures to thrive

when stifled among these empty spaces?