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Lost

The Last Call

By Shane MillerPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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I thought I’d learn after every wrong turn, with all these voices echoing my bad choices. I’ve been beat, played for weak, left for dead, and completely forgotten. On my own, far from home, scraping the bottom. I drown in depression, guilt, regret, and grief, with no family to turn to, and no friend to confide in, I’m on the outside looking in, searching for relief. I try to take a trip, slip into darkness, go numb, feel nothing like I’m heartless, but I keep envisioning the ending. It’s the price I pay for living a life of sinning. All their laws I broke and their rules I’m bending. As the system saps our consciousness and knowledge of self, we rate the wrong riches as treasure and wealth. We must account for everything we spent, every minute, every dollar, every second and cent. We don’t own this Earth, we just pay rent. There are records of everything we did, said, and meant.

The kind are confined, attempting to change their mind, from laughing to crying, living to dying, they’re thieving and lying, trying to steal the soul, dealing in silver and gold, using urges to make you lose control, making offers to your appetite, tempting your desire, as you walk the path of illumination over a burning lake of fire. Sometimes it seems hopeless to try and stay focused through the attacks of those that oppose us.

No one will catch me if I fall! No one will hear me when I call! ALONE, I constantly roam, with no one, and nowhere to call home. I’m in alleys, sleeping in squats, but I know all the corners and dope spots, I just can’t find the directions to untie the knots my life has been twisted into, constantly asking Karma where all the kindness I committed went to. I push on and continue, trying to earn my right to die, as my pain holds me down and keeps me from feeling high...but I continue to try...and try..........and try.........

sad poetry
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