Better days

Poetry of the fallen

Photo by Dylan Hunter on Unsplash

I dream of
Better days.

Of days without my head
Splitting into a million smithereens.

I am
Misery.

Dancing with my demons
Who tell me I’ve been forgiven.

I dream of
Better days,

Days when I’m not marred by
The condescending populace,

Days when I’m not
just a Chinese face,

Days when I hit
Nothing but net.

I am
One man in three.

A poet who is
The King of Illiterature,

A dreamer who cannot
Conquer his bits,

An engineer who is bound
To repeat the same phrase every day.

I am
The dust.

All sizzle, no steak,
All micro, no macro.

I am someone’s lust.
Out of place, I’ve seen it all.

I am
Pain.

Revel in it, I must,
Tell me, is the content so much?

Thank you for reading.