In an attempt to bring back some significance to my otherwise meanigless life (No, I don't meant that. Not really) I've decided to start a blog of my own.
Hmm, let's commemorate this new beginning with a poem:
CIRCUMSTANCES
I had a purpose,
I had a dream,
To be successful,
A life that is meaningful.
I had ambitions,
I had aspirations,
To reach for the sky,
To soar up high.
Perhaps it is not meant to be,
Circumstances are against me,
Pitiful and pathetic,
Wasn’t what I wanted to be.
My dreams in ruins,
I am disheartened,
A shell of what I was,
A disgrace to myself.
Never would’ve forsee,
This consuming misery,
To be so bitter,
I deserve better.
Crying my hopes away,
No longer a part of me,
The fleeting memory,
Of whom I used to be.
13th May 2009
Yes, yes. Unfortunately I AM one of those people who write depressing poetry when they're, well, depressed and shamelessly put it up for the world to see. There's nothing quite like baring your wounds to the world whilst hiding your identity. Not that it's exhilirating or anything of the sort. I suppose it's kind of like moaning in public, except that you're invisible. Everyone can hear you but then can't see you. Ah, the hypocrisy of it. I am pitiful.
I made this blog so that I can indulge myself. Indeed, that is what I aim to achieve.
SELF SATISFACTION.
I'm very much satisfied at the moment.
Goodbye all.
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