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by Small Poems 3 years ago in sad poetry

Are We Living?

I see tired faces sitting in squares, trapped in their world with only four corners to turn to.

That star outside breaks, it’s light throws a stuttering shade on the walking dead below it.

I see puff escaping a cigarette, which is soon to be broken in half, it’s ignited light dimmed with the crush of a heel.

I see the warped cars rushing back the their sheds, to be locked up for another few hours, till their person returns like a soul to a body.

I see cracked bottles, shards of glass, a bouquet hanging by it’s final leaf on the ground.

I see a drunken man clinging to the pavement like a misplaced comma in a sentence, his eyes redder than the traffic lights above him, bringing the cars to a full stop.

I question, what is the meaning of such breathing that isn’t full of life?

Are we living?

Or are we giving death definition?

See that is when I knew, I was watching a lonely world that forgot how to live, all the way from up here.

sad poetry

Small Poems

Unheard voicemails, forgotten dreams, unspoken thoughts and empty words.

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