Habitually Forgettable

Habitually Forgettable

A Poem by Anti Phalanx

I'm dreaming of a short year,
There's no work but drowning out this voice in my ear,
Education's a miss,
Now my days are a short hiss,
Drabble's my new fear,
Yet my writing's now all I persevere,
I never knew picking up a pen could be so hard,
I could be folding paper but no I'm folding card,
Small to me is huge to an ant,
But I'm not me I'm feeling like a empty shell stuck through an unfinished heart transplant,
I can't complain though,
Life's too good to complain despite my woe,
It's perpetual,
And I'm just ineffectual,
Not special,
Just hovering over mental peril of a particular level,
Habitually forgettable.

© 2015 Anti Phalanx

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I love the rhyme scheme, it slows down and speeds up the pace when needed, very clever and gives it a nice flow. I think this is very familiar to a lot of people, we often feel like this at times. Nicely done.

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is really good! A deep message behind it. Whilst reading it I picked up the pace nearer the end and it felt like the final race towards complete break down and then poof slowed down again. Well done jim, this counts as an actual poem :P

Posted 9 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on January 20, 2015
Last Updated on January 20, 2015


Anti Phalanx
Anti Phalanx

Solihull, West Midlands, United Kingdom

Professional Hobbyist. I live in a box. It is my box. I like my box. I like to peak out of it once in a while & feel glad about not peaking out of it so often. It's a rather nice box. more..

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