Tag: forgotten

537. Precensored

I don’t know why I bother.

Why do I even try?

To be a voice of reason?

When I’m no one, am I?

I’ve been ignored and forgotten,

Since the day that I was born.

I’m nobody to anyone,

So why foment even more scorn?…

By speaking out?… By caring?

For who has ever cared for me?

I’ve always been the outcast,

Within my society;

And yet I care about it all…

The people and politics.

I want the best for humanity’s future,

Though I know I can’t be the fix.

I am no one. I am pushed aside.

If I stand up for what’s right.

No one will care if I’m censored,

And fall forever out of sight.

Yet, I can not help but be myself,

An idealist through and through,

Who dreams and tries anyway;

Knowing no matter what humans do,

I will not have a say.

K. Aldaya, 4/30/21

Picture: By Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/0W4XLGITrHg

536. The Program

The mind is a prison,

And it’s always the same.

Nowhere to go to,

And an air of shame,

Floats right on through;

While the doors remain locked,

And darkness protrudes,

‘Til life only exists,

In despondent attitudes,…

And the outside exits.

No one will save us.

This is a life sentence,

Where no matter how you try,

You won’t receive penance,

At least not ’til you die.

A prisoner to the end,

There is no refuge in or out.

It’s either solitude and darkness,

Or the freedom of chaos and self-doubt;

For a day,..an hour,…maybe less.

The mind is a prison,

And it’s always been this way,

And the outside world, the only place to get away.

……………..*Running a prisoner trace*……………..

  1. She’s locked away…
  2. She’s locked away…
  3. She’s locked away…
  4. She’s locked away…
  5. She’s out today…
  6. She’s locked away…
  7. She’s locked away…
  8. She’s locked away…
  9. She’s out today…
  10. She’s locked away…
  11. She’s locked away…
  12. She’s locked away…
  13. She’s locked away…
  14. She’s lost her way…
  15. She’s locked away…
  16. She’s locked away…
  17. She’s locked away……………..

K. Aldaya, 1/31/21

Picture: Original Source Unknown; https://www.docbyte.com/blog/ocr-ai-digital-eyes-mailroom

518. Underground

help

How am I supposed to live,

When no one is willing to accept,

The entirety of my soul?

Every piece of me, broken, is swept…

Under the rug. I’ll never be whole.

How am I supposed to feel,

When society calls me a lie?

And says the face is what is real,

And not the inner voices who cry.

How am I supposed to trust,

When there’s no one fighting on my side?

I’ve learned the judge is far less cruel,

When the truth is denied,…and we hide.

I may be insane, yet I’m no fool.

How am I supposed to live,

When condemned,…buried,…forgotten?

One cannot live when they’re not free.

So I spend my days with paper and pen,

Writing my own wistful elegy,…

That no one will understand.

K. Aldaya, 6/21/20

Picture: https://www.inverse.com/article/7543-how-do-you-die-when-you-re-buried-alive

517. Empty Graves Without Name

mask_bw_monochrome_124766_3840x2400

There is a tall castle,

It looks lovely from the top.

The tower is inviting,

So passersby often go up;

To see the sea of green,

And to the fae, raise bounteous cup.

However, this castle,

Is a most sprawling domain,

With levels and rooms galore;

Though no one wanders without aim,

As each window and door,

Is locked with keys of their own name.

And each key rests below,

In the haunted dungeon halls,

Where the screams of yesterdays,

Still echo through the walls themselves;

And the terrors from those days,

Remain undusted on its’ shelves.

Thence, who would travel forth,

To seek out the truths within?

When blue skies are so pleasant;

And nature moves in expansion,

Adorning the present….

Burying tales without description.

Empty graves, without name.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/20

Picture: Originally by Evan Mitchell on Flickr;
https://wallpaperscraft.com/download/mask_bw_monochrome_124766/3840×2400

 

 

513. Salvage

To the world I’m nothing more than trash,

To be tossed away…

Devoid of value.

Nothing lost. Nothing to say.

I know I have value, though no one tries,

To pick me up and see,

Something of worth…

A shred of humanity.

The world threw me away without care,

And without my consent;

So I wonder what could’ve been,

If I hadn’t been absent?

If someone had noticed my absence and found,

That I could be,

Something of value,

For beyond entropy…

Comes a measure of hope.

K. Aldaya, 3/10/20

Picture: By Jordan Beltran on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/AxdlcxaModc