Human Suffering

A longer poem, I have a shorter version in another poem called Suffering. This poem is for those who read epics, and the other for those who read shorts.

Humans do not understand human suffering

The more I drown in it, the more I breathe in feelings

I don’t exist in this world

Challenging reality

People’s egos sully these melancholy hills sabotaging the once green fields of my refuse of a youth

Winter came and washed away the ink from the page destroying yesterday’s December shaded display of truth

I feel the cold in my heart under the ice and snow on the road alone, frozen in the unknown, the place that once was home,

One cannot remedy a loner without hope, rattle out a poem without a throat, settling a fight with no court

I feel the sobbing of my body, throttling my happiness, the knotting malevolence of my happenstance in my gut, the future in my lungs, the words that stay unsung, the thing that I’ve become, the bridge that’s been undone

The water continues to run

The clouds continue to drift

The sun continues to lift, and I have no choice but to persist

I hear the throbbing cries of my mind, buried film behind my eyes like a theatre room of lies, a lord of flies in the thicket of times gone by realized livid liquid full of sickness wicked and alive, that I no longer know and are long undone, left behind, and over, it’s almost tradition to relinquish omissions of what could have been, and what was, and will never be in the same condition, still petitioning to commission the same definitions

I feel the emotions of constant motion in my whole, the life that has unfurled from an unforgettably unfortunate portion of this familiar world, the time continues to pass, I am a souvenir of the past, a footprint collapsed on the grass, a pirateer of that, when the new world attacked, I rummaging through and clasping onto my yesterday tomes, coveted the treasures of better days I’ve been shown, I’ve begun to call my own, that I loved but then disowned

The memories of better days, mentioning obscenities, threaded dreams of mutterings, and of old painted letterings, battering and battling, levelling my foundation of fantasy, romanticised with scanty insanity of contempt and contemplation of empty temptation like demise, the rise of a supernova, I remain a memory Casanova, the past a backpack upon my shoulders, of the stars in the skies, of a fire stolen, scars upon my soul, oil on my oceans

Humans do not understand human suffering; I know that I don’t know

The difference between nothing and the hindrance of my unforgiveness unfolds, moulded into art so sharp you could cut yourself on the paper thin passion of the moment

So fragile that it will rip if you grasp it’s width within your hand

Watch it lift and stand, catch the wind and never land again

Creation will drift on high through the rift of time

We cannot understand the sands of something left behind

We can only give what we have wanted to others

We cannot bother to solder the modern dramas ran of years past back upon us

We let the present slip as we demand, these words admit our folly looking down upon us men, condemning our amendments, humanity offends, we cannot contend to pretend we are anything but a collective rendering of different perspectives that fade into the wind neglected, humanity is imperfection incarnate, patronaged with hatred, empathically complacent, sacredly contagious, vagrantly stationed, ignorantly awakened, unlawfully forsaken

I do not understand all, this is the world that I’ve been born in

Walking in the moment, backtracking through the storm and, always looking forward

I do not know myself, I only know what’s happened every morning

Laughing madly in the daylight, hopelessly broken when it’s over

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[LazerRays]

I think this is a BRILLIANT poem even though some people here think otherwise (AHEM the dark hydra) dont listen to them since they are the pathetic attention seekers. i enjoyed this poem very much :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thanks Sarah, means a lot to me! :3

[The dark Hydra]

you cant unlearn stupid. I resist to call you a f*****g retard. those are the old ways, the broken ways. these are new times we are in. bye bye now.

[LazerRays]

Yeah- you're living proof you cant unlearn stupid.

[LazerRays]

(btw that was for the troll, not for you jack)

[The dark Hydra]

I can try.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thanks for the back up my rocket bro!

[The dark Hydra]

potatoes are good. thats why they ware sandles. to cover their potaToes. Your a great guy sorry I picked on u in the past.

[LazerRays]

no problem Skull brother :D

[The dark Hydra]

that was for jack.

[LazerRays]

not you. i was talking to jack. hes team skull. im team rocket

[.]

This poem shows up the reality. Humans themselves don't understand human suffering. The first line itself comprises of the whole idea of human behavior...how we really behave. And the poem goes on like a flowing river.
In short, I just love the idea (theme)... And then the whole poem.
So... Thanks a lot for sharing this beautiful poem.

Keep writing and Good luck!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

As usual, I'm very thankful for your review, and opinion, you always have something interesting to say. Thank you for inspiring me, this is one of the reasons I love writing so much!

[wordman]

good points jack,we have always suffered..i enjoyed the write
it covered a lot of pain for us all

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Pain is learning, I'm glad I was given this pain, it helps me know how I can sooth that pain in others.

[wordman]

i guess it makes you think