You gave me anxiety then you blame me
Never acknowledging the stress that you gave me
I didn't kill you, you lived and died
With every asinine thing you leeched to keep you alive
This is what it's like to be haunted
A soul refusing time but giving itself time to flaunt it
Now all I hear are the voices
Bitchin' at their lives that's been full of dumb choices
But I guess that's not your fault, is it?
The world is supposed make itself a pleasant visit
You'll never find life when you're limbo
I bet you'd blame the glass if you weren't smart enough to break the window
It's annoying to always feel what I don't see
Father, please rid all these ghosts that are surrounding me
About the Creator
E.J. Tangonan
It's not hard doing self-deprecating humor. I just suck at it.
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No Space
NOTE: For added artistic impact, I wrote this poem with no spaces between words, but capitalized each word for easier reading. Below the initial poem will be a version with spaces added should the original be too disorienting to read.NO SPACENoRoomForErrorButWe’reAllSurroundedByTheTerrorInTheKingdomNoOneIsFairerNotEvenTheRingBearerWhoOnlyHoldsTheRingWhilePeopleGlareAndStareAndMakeDeclaresEatingTheirEclairsInTheirRoyalChairsButThey’reNotRealThronesCauseTheyCan’tReallyBareTheInsaneAmountOfPressureThatIsThereAndIt’sEvenTheirsGoodGodHowCanASimpleConceptGetSoComplicatedAndItPredatesAnythingEmancipatedMakingUsJadedNotSlatedForThisToBeRaidedButIt’sBeratedIfThereWereSuchARatingItWouldBe”B”RatedAndIt’sStatedAndStatedAndStatedAndSTATEDItGoesAroundFasterThanAnF5TornadoAllWorkAndNoPlayMakesJackADullBoyAllWorkAndNoPlayMakesJackADullBoyAllWorkAndNoPlayMakesJackADullBoyAllTwerkin’AllDayBitchMakeJackATallBoyHindsightLaughsAtForesightAndIt’sJustLikeHowCan’tYouSeeThePlightThatMakesUrbanAndSuburbanBlightSoBrightEnoughToBothShineAndCloudWhat’sRightMakingThingsTightButNotSlangTightButTriteAndTriedAndATrueFightSoGoFlyAKiteMakeSureIt’sGotGraceInThisCrazyHumanRaceThatUsainBoltCouldn’tWinWithRocketShoesAndTheWindAtHisBackGoingDownhillOnAForwardMovingTrackButThat’sTheCaseThatWeGottaFaceMaybeWeCanTraceBackToWhereItInterlacedButIt’sSoTightSinceWe’reGivenNoSpace
By E.J. Tangonan6 years ago in Poets
Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy4 days ago in Fiction
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