The Unusual Story ( Poetry)
Synopsis: I yearn for the old days, when a trip to the beach felt like a privilege. When the ice cream truck would pass by, enchanting every child with their first taste of ice cream. I miss the tangible presence of newspapers and journals. I long for the simplicity of those bygone days.
Windows remind me of memories that I will never forget. In poetry, ‘missing you’ holds a meaning of enduring connection, imprinted in someone else’s soul. It describes the feeling of longing for someone who is not physically close, yet their presence is deeply felt. For me, windows evoke the same sentiment. They remind me of what is yet to come. It could be something scary or a surprise waiting to be discovered.
Yet on the other hand, labor days unfold, Where economic strife takes its hold. Guilt creeps in, like a shadow’s dance, And solitude reigns, in a depressive trance. I miss the days when jobs provided security, where proper training meant stability and the fear of being fired was minimal.
In poetry dating felt like a scene from a romantic movie. There was a sense of pursuit, love, and respect. However, nowadays, the reality of dating feels more like the Hunger Games, where the thrill of the chase often extinguishes the passion of love, leaving behind a game of playing hard to get.
In poetry, tarot once sparked joy, a playful dance, Like scenes from movies, where fate took a chance. Now, tangled in deceit, a sinister game, Scam artists lurk, cloaking truth in shame.
It all boils down to isolating ourselves for a year, withdrawing from conversations and outings, trapped in a sixty-minute film where every precious minute is stolen. In poetry, souls are torn asunder, leaving behind a lingering anger that drives us to therapy. For those who can afford it, we seek comfort in digital therapists like ChatGPT, where it becomes our guide, as AI has become our new neighbor and friend. In the realm of poetry, the days of beauty have faded, and there’s no turning back.
In poetry, friendship was a loyal alliance, a promise of support and presence. Even when you fought or were honest, they would understand; strangers would understand. Nowadays, it feels like friendship is clouded by scarcity, a delusion of trust, with backstabbers lurking, their intentions never pure. Unfortunately, it’s all illusion, making it awkward to reach out again.
Finally, in poetry, all that I’ve mentioned thrives in the imagination of the hopeless romantic and dreamers, a rare breed in our world. Yet, now, the pressure to manifest positivity pervades, as if every negative thought could derail our lives. We’re bombarded with messages to ‘stay positive’ and ‘think this way,’ as if any deviation from this path is forbidden. But let’s not forget that humans are complex beings, capable of both light and shadow. We shouldn’t be scared into conformity by the fantasies of idealism. Yes, work towards your goals, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with embracing negativity at times. In both reality and poetry, life is a delicate balance, where moments of darkness only serve to highlight the beauty of the light.
The Hunger Games is employed as a metaphor for the systematic destruction of individuals’ souls and hope, setting the stage before any relationship or situation begins.
