Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Monthly Archives: December 2012

The Scorned One

night turns to gray,day turns to ash.
The beast prowls among this empty place.
No man shall come here less he be consumed by the monsters claws.
The darkness calls my name, and the well shall be my resting place.
Such a cold place it shall be, where hearts rot and eyes lose their shine.
Such a horrible fate for a man such as me,but yet  what worries lies therein after?
Society is a prison, empty men with empty hearts.
Woe is them,if only they but knew… such an empty place..
A sign with no sense of direction, ahead where the confused lie.
Eyes view the one who thinks differently as insane, oh how it hurts.
Minds filled with Venom, from the fangs of so called truth.
The glamour and glitz for how long will it please a man,for the sky will crack and show the infection it hid.
What do you consider normal?
For every man has a reality tunnel, but the wolves come out to play.
Quick to judge, but lack of similarity.
Does the judger see through the eyes of the condemned?
Oh, how unfair it is.
The scorned one walks all alone, with no place to call home.
The voices of the alike scorn him and tells him there is a place for him.
Woe is him Woe is him, in the pit of the abyss where others such as him will go.
But comfortable to see men to see men such as him.
The scorned one views love as evil, because the bucket is easy to spill.
Such a over used word, in a heartless world.
But yet, within him he cries for love.
The ghost of the “before” haunts him reminding him of the scars that appeared within him.
The dragon holds dominion upon the sheep, oh will when they wake up?
The whips of ignorance slice across the scorned one, and the bullets of the hateful writhe his inner reality.
He views himself as crazy upon the wolfs, but his hope holds a rope for him.
Watch Rome the second crumble upon its errors, will the truth touch them then?
Oh how awful it is to see the sun turn black and the beast reign among the dead.
Where naked woman dance, and bitter men cheat.
Let it be, that it will not change me.
Skulls reign among the machine,and the Octopus prospers.
For it gains the riches, and steals from the low.
The buildings of conformity, prey among the young to mold them into a mindless drone.
May they call me insane and lock me in the place of the well, but my eyes see the truth.
Who am I you ask?
Well im The Scorned One.

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The poem is filled with symbols and meanings within it. I’m not gonna give the “full” interpretation of what everything means, only because I leave the reader to interpret it. What the basic summary of this poem is about society in general. Since I have different ideas and beliefs about society, that makes me feel all alone. – Eddie

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More Poems by Math

NEVER AGAIN
When the sun goes down, the light goes out and the darkness creeps within. When Love’s not around, Fear whispers in my ear, “it’s never coming back again.”
Amidst the overwhelming blue seeping through every orifice in sight, floats a small, round clock. First enters the questions, “Where am I? What happened to me? How did I get here? What do I do now?” My mind wanders through countless theories searching for the logical reasoning behind it all. Simultaneously, everything gets blurry and the muscles in my face start to tingle. Then, a quick realization of the situation at hand…I’m drowning. Bursting out of the deep blue, I land on the small, round clock and struggle to regulate the oxygen rushing into my lungs. Now lying on the clock, I stare up at the monotonous fields of gray sky. I’ve escaped one death only to lose myself to another.
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– comments pertaining to NEVER AGAIN: I wrote this after leaving a relationship that was not going very well. It’s about a realization that my dependency for the love of another means that by leaving a relationship that was causing negative emotion for the unknown depths of loneliness is a tough situation.
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MISERY’S DRUDGE
I often wondered how I managed to live a life so immensely rife with strife until the day I realized whose hand it was holding the knife. With every step, I felt it piercing my spine and causing a mental decline as if the wielder made it a point to confine my mind. I tried to defy the pain by claiming my spirit will never die and not once did I ever apply the idea that it was all just a lie to try to deny the truth from my own eye. I was not strong enough to accept that it was I all along who had been in the wrong. There’s a certain picture I’ve been painting over time, hoping to wipe off all the sludge and grime so that I may finally let go of a grudge and reach a moment so sublime. But now it seems I must eternally climb the highest mountains and trudge through slime as Misery’s drudge to pay for my crime.
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– comments pertaining to MISERY’S DRUDGE: I wrote this recently, when realizing that I was over-reacting about something because I constantly over-analyze everything. It’s about how I am the only one who consistently and effectively makes my own life harder to emotionally handle.