The Crying Out of Things
I am not here I am without and cursed a residue of those dreams that failed I don’t have love I don’t know love I don’t have hope I can’t know love I can’t have hope I can’t have sorrow if what has been is worse than what will come Wearied of “love” Wearied of “hope” Dreams are worthless while in the hold of what we now know
Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025
whither shall you wander when your home is leveled and your friends are gone there is little hope in the wilderness dead roots and thorns await you there
Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025
why live why at all eat bread provided perform tasks prescribed know what is decided welcome to home artifice is all to perform
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 26, 2025
frail forms emerge a doorway into dark a cry of sadness waves and waste crashing onto shores weary feet walking limbs are broken pock-marked walls crumbling facades flames reflect on the low clouds
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025
old ways are forgotten the old ones dead what life means no purpose to stir no fish to catch no land to till new ways are falling discoursed into hubris and crashing into ruin have become numbed numbers earth is a market where we are bought and sold
Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025
The truth is I've been in a bad way for a long time Not wanting to do anything Feeling of nothing being worthwhile A sense of disassociation, detachment I have a wife and kids, they meant nothing to me I have money, it means nothing to me I have life, it means nothing to me Where do you think it comes from, that sense of detachment? From nowhere Nowhere
Submitted by Immortal — Feb 10, 2026
am home am alone am blank all hopes tortured left alone how the work was if it left you empty or if it left you fulfilled remain with bitter resentment in a world moving on removed all fear left in dark no kin comfort secondary empty days no visitor no future
Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025
clinging to belief the flesh it moves by what we cannot see but we claim to know and it is nothing worms in dirt it is nothing wringing hands in worry is nothing
Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025
all forms have ceased the idleness of words definitions collapse all aims abandoned the war is here no hearts clean no vision unburied by tears the weariness of the horror the awareness of complicity the sadness in grief’s howling the ache in futility we are this
Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 26, 2025