The Perpetual Plight of Being

[tectak]

forward moving - backward thinking
young minds burdened
thoughts? imprisoned.
fate: sealed.

flying, flying!
falling?

fallen.

but time passes,

runs out -
and the
stars that burn the
brightest
fall so fast
and
pass
you
by.

- the odyssey of existence
deemed
but a futile plight

and so
eventually, or is it suddenly?
the heart once
determined, demanding...
is bruised, broken, bare -

and yet

you’re still searching,
but
plunging further into
darkness,
searching, searching
sinking

sunk,

throat burning
of words
unsaid,
adventure
ignored,
seconds
neglected -
- and then?

relief.

alas
moments, memories,
me,
gone.

Hi elizabeth,
I am not going to be of any comfort on this one. I agree with all of the constructively negative comments and come late to this party. By writing form-poetry you can end up with a risk-list..and you have. It is tedious to hear posters on serious arguing deliberate cliche, intentional flaky form, designer dumb and "going for that effect" when really it is all just sloppy work. To get away with synaptic verse ( straight to print without cerebral processing) you have to be very sure that you think good thoughts or you are on mind expanding drugs...though the results are liable to be predictably the same old same old.
Could I suggest that you write this whole effort out as paragraph text, punctuate it, then READ it out loud into a recording device. Do not play it back until you are sure you can bare it...then wait another year before switching it on to play. Still want to post it?( I do this....I have never reposted any piece after this procedure!)
Best,
tectak