jojok49

Wallowing in dark depths falling further into fatal despair. A cry out cry for help no one hears no one is there to listen. Silent screams eerily echoing across empty spaces undetected by distracted ears. The lies careless whispers comforting those around but not me never me. I mourn my own grave dug deep dug into the dark dreary depths. Bottomless buried deep beneath the ground untouched by the sun. The light it will not find me not here not where I hide myself amongst lost souls still so alone. Surrounded I wear a mask happy to please the crowds. They will not know they will never know why I stand tall and proud. They will not k

Curiously reminiscent Strangely similar Feelings and emotions Hold true to the mountain’s Representation. For every high There is a Low For every up A down. Each peak can hold A painful point A struggle unforeseen. Yet each descent leads To a darkened low Which remarkably can show, All the light The lively glow Leading us To rise once more.

Like walls these mountains hold me in, reminding me I cannot escape. Like torture, they encase my sins within my mind to prolong the pain. They act as walls to border me within this wretched place, and when I try to conquer them their shadowed peaks debate my freedom as though it were a thing physical, and real. They offer to trade it, sometimes, yet it’s always a bad deal. I hope one day to fly away, sprout wings to soar on out, fight their clenching grasp on me, and, freed, I’ll cheer out loud.

Sweeping up into the sky, the rolling hills lead into massive structures known to me as the mountains to the west. The steady structures reside tall and proud. Their majestic slopes rise and fall, sloping up and down, going on for seemingly endless distances in the directions of north and south. They mark my world, as they always have for me. Their beauty holds a place in my heart, for I know, upon looking at their glorious range, that I am home. Without these huge wonders, I am lost. I feel directionless, in a physical and mental sense, when I find myself apart from them. The purples and greens remind me of the

Silently I watch your tortured soul knowing I cannot help at all wishing I could hold you close and vanquish all the troubles. I wish that I could pick you up and hold you in my palm and wherever I go you would come along. Still I watch you grieve and stand there all alone I won’t reach out a hand to help you must work through it on your own.

Here she comes again… This is going to be fantastic! I think sarcastically to myself. “You suck at sarcasm. Why do you even bother using it at all? You can’t understand it, and you can’t get the pitching of your voice right. You just come off as an extremely serious asshole.” She walks briskly up to me and takes a seat on the floor in front of me. “Good to know,” I say bluntly. She has a point… I again think to myself. I don’t understand sarcasm. What makes me think I can use it correctly? People have commented on my failure to make sarcasm sound anything less than serious, too…