The mall
We make a carnival
Out of plastic bits
And blast music
As apocalpyse roils beneath our feet
And I'm cradled in a earthquake
Of this mortal desperation
And I don't seek truth in sunflowers
But, rather the liminal space of parking lots
While everyone's wheels are turning and turning
Like life isn't just a distraction
God gently blindfolding the lambs
While He roasts us over the fire
I don't want to play this charade anymore.
@determinedSea4370
Very heart-felt and descriptive as you wade through the knee-deep waters we call mental health, bravely in retrospective ponderings. I enjoy poetry very much. I like to write about my mental health suffering, but even better are my new poems because they help inspire me to keep trying to overcome the challenges we all face. Keep writing, you are very good at it! If you'd like to read a poem I wrote about Perception, it's in my profile. Take good care and enjoy all your 7Cups friends!~
Blessings, Day
@determinedSea4370 This poem beautifully captures the weight of existential exhaustion, a feeling so many experience in the throes of mental struggle. The imagery of a carnival of plastic bits and an apocalypse roiling beneath our feet feels like a sharp metaphor for masking inner turmoil with distractions, while the liminal space of parking lots speaks to that lonely search for meaning in overlooked places. And that final plea—"I don’t want to play this charade anymore."—is so raw, echoing the fatigue of wearing a mask for too long. A deeply poignant and thought-provoking piece!
PS : Hang in there determined sea, sending you virtual hugs