We are saturated in our consolation of a rotary picture which
continuously retells itself . . .
Are we drifting forward or is the illusion
merely reoccurrences of our ancestors?
Clouted in coldness, dazed hideaways
through snaking passages - the
euphoria of intoxication,
contemplating the rationality of it all.
Can we control stronger mindsets or are we only composed of lost moral
and the decomposition of other triggered
by ourselves?
Twines of fanciful traditions once taught
to us forgotten by the shortfall of
mortality;
the pedestal of beliefs fought against,
demolished for - weakening our
freedoms and sensuality . . .
Are those the catastrophic terms to
which we lay our foundation upon?
Perhaps contemporary life cannot be told
through simple aspects.
Media Handles
For more poetry and prose, follow my Instagram @themooncriedher
About the Creator
Alivia Evans
Writing Blogger
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