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The Inevitable

A plea for pause.

By Merrie SandersPublished 2 years ago Updated about a year ago 1 min read
The Inevitable
Photo by Ivan Bandura on Unsplash

If I could write a thousand words

to fix this broken fate,

my pen would run out of ink.

I could write those thousand words,

but it would still be this way.

I cannot help but feel as though

it's all come to an end.

I am not weak at heart.

...am I?

I pray with my being and all my might,

but you can be brave and still feel that fear?

I can be wrong.

Selfish or cruel.

But to be weak would be

too much.

I must never.

I cannot succumb to those thoughts,

to that doubt.

Confident I must stand

before this changing tide.

I would rather we stay put.

To plant like a tree

and slowly age in this wind.

But there are other plans in store

as time drags me across the floor

by my hair.

I will beg, and I will scream,

but the change is coming.

We all run out of air


I do not wish these burdens on you,

to feel lost in the noise.

To long for yesterdays where

all seemed so black and white.

The grey was our folly,

we clawed for the ends.

How I yearn for the days with so little at stake.

The leaves and the meadows my only thoughts.

The shallow and hungry, the have nevers and nots.

Now with the is,

the was keeps churning.

I grow and I gain, and I lose and I miss.

I will swim out of these waves to

Drift along no more.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Merrie Sanders

Writing for fun and as an escape from the everyday. After all, what is life for if not to create?

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