Midnight Poem

The turning point

Was not a turning point

Just a reason to move on

In the same direction

Restless and relentless

Trying to solve

The same problem

The same way as before

The Poem at midnight

Will not tell you that story

Again, sorry

Bleach

Bleak light through thick clouds

Makes the world grey

The future looks bleak

I try to turn

Around without being

Able to do it

Feeling weak

Incapable of changing my life

Just not this time

This life

A Lucky Strike

The rich are the happy one

In this equation,

Improving their wealth

Every year

For the rest of us

Eternal struggle to make ends meet

We will suffer and eventually

In the next cycle

Lose even more

So please give us your change

So we can maintain ourself

And continue to pretend

That things will get better

Outdoor Dying

Tired and out of hope

Just trying to stay alive

A little longer

Without knowing why

The wind and the rain

Takes the best of me

(Not that much left)

Soon only memories

Will remain

Untouched by

The relentless rain

Contemplative Self Destruction

Here we are in this dirty place

The people that we are

Are the ones we hated yesterday

We despise ourself

Because in our own eyes

We are failures

Creatures not worth living

We thought that we had

All the answers but this is not the case

We are losers

Soon dead

Leaving the world

To be destroyed

By the more successful

Of our stupid spices

Wasted Wisdom

Hope is a great quality

Hope is the best of drugs

Creating an illusion

Of what is possible

To do or not

Breaking the routine

Of heavy depression

Returning deeds

And actions

To the meager

Reality of patience