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Soul to Break

By Wil C. Fry, Sept. 5, 1999, 15:00

Copyright 1999 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


Doesn’t everyone know that the world is not just
What you want it to be
And it’s not getting any younger
Neither are we
Neither are you
And we’re not getting
Any better are we?
But we live on
And, we strive, we push, and we give on
We give too much or not enough and we’re not
Satisfied
Act as if we’re happy and fill our lives with smiles
And never know what’s slipping behind the miles
How many have we traveled and how much farther
Do we have to go?
Because I’m tired and I want to slow down
I want to look back and say I didn’t waste it
But I don’t want anyone to say I didn’t taste it
Because I did
And I spit some of it out onto the cold hard earth
And buried it there
But I can never forget
And I don’t really want to
Will we remember it all? Will any of this ride with us into and past
The grave?
Or do the memories keep slipping between our fingers like so much sand
Why do we hold on to such f***ed up pictures of the past?
Why are the f***ed up memories the ones that last?
I know we’re supposed to learn
And improve and change and go on
I’m stuck I’m stuck I’m stuck
We’re f***ed
No, not you and me
All of us are f***ed
It’s just that sometimes we like it, and sometimes it gives us
Something to talk about and we feel
Better, having told someone, and maybe thinking that we’ve
Lived through worse than them, so we must be stronger
“Bragging rights,” they’re called
But if I lie down, do I really
Sleep?
Or do I visit another world?
I hope so
Because the one I see there in my dreams seems to make much
More sense than this one
Now I sit me up to live
To the world my soul I give
If I die while I’m awake
I pray the world my soul to break



Originally this poem was untitled; first written in a letter to childhood friend S.A.J.



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