I think to myself,
I'm in my own
lost generation.
A personal prison,
where everyone
is from a different time to me.
I'm lost in pages of history,
when everyone else
is in a future world of fantasy,
living incomprehensible lives to me.
I don't know
the celebrity references,
the music preferences
are not representative
of the world I once knew.
I don't recognise images.
Faces, I can't place.
I appear distant
to the people I meet,
When all I want,
is to welcome them
with open arms to greet.
It's like I'm from
a different century.
All that seems the same
is the hate that navigates
these unfamiliar streets.
Did I prick my finger
and doze off,
as a forest of change
grew around me,
like sleeping beauty
awakening in a world
from a deep slumber.
Surrounded by unknowns
brain feeling dumber.
Mind turned to stone.
If I was a time traveller,
unravelling ancient mysteries,
this is how I'd feel,
part of history,
but also startled and distant.
I feel lost and alone,
supposedly, this reality is home,
and I've been here all along.
So how is it, I don't know the songs.
The TV shows and movies
of which you speak
mean nothing to me.
Where was I when these things
became the norm.
Was I locked up in my own brain
just trying to conform?
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
No comments:
Post a Comment