The poem explores themes of isolation, anxiety, and depression in contrast to concepts of joy, pleasure, and happiness. It describes a desolate state of being plagued by inner turmoil and questions whether a higher power is responsible for people feeling low of heart. The speaker seems to be running from their soul, longing for love and meaning, but feels cut off from others. They ask the reader not to reason away their pain and instead acknowledge it through words before using their creative abilities, implying that art could heal if used as a form of empathy and connection rather than a way to further isolate.
Original Description:
Poem on existentialism, if you ever looked for meaning in life.
The poem explores themes of isolation, anxiety, and depression in contrast to concepts of joy, pleasure, and happiness. It describes a desolate state of being plagued by inner turmoil and questions whether a higher power is responsible for people feeling low of heart. The speaker seems to be running from their soul, longing for love and meaning, but feels cut off from others. They ask the reader not to reason away their pain and instead acknowledge it through words before using their creative abilities, implying that art could heal if used as a form of empathy and connection rather than a way to further isolate.
The poem explores themes of isolation, anxiety, and depression in contrast to concepts of joy, pleasure, and happiness. It describes a desolate state of being plagued by inner turmoil and questions whether a higher power is responsible for people feeling low of heart. The speaker seems to be running from their soul, longing for love and meaning, but feels cut off from others. They ask the reader not to reason away their pain and instead acknowledge it through words before using their creative abilities, implying that art could heal if used as a form of empathy and connection rather than a way to further isolate.
Ask yourself, if it exists at all? Desolation, Frustration, Isolation! Have become a curse for all. Lends couple of bad nightfall, while you plague in anxiety pitfall. Do you even follow your calls? Is it god? Who chided one and all?
Why everyone is so low of heart? Baed, you might self-depart, from your soul, to where that child waits. On the run, for the love of the knots, for someone to water these blots, alas, you cut me o like blood clots.
No! Dont try to reason my foreparts, why orchestrate a daunting Mozart? Wound me, smear me with replies tart, talk a few words, dont kill by your art. Wound me not plainly and kill by your art; Kill by your words, then kill by your art Kill by your art