We Are The Weeds

We Are The Weeds short poem

Photo by AmyZZZ1

I feel sane in a mad world
How I wish to be mad like the others
I want to hide under the covers
And pretend I am free

My logic is chaotic here
Where fear is power and kindness is rare
I have no place in such a place
This is the torment I face

I feel myself become distant
I want no association with this tyrant
I want no ties to dead environments
I want to thrive to not feel guilt for being alive

Because I do
Its either there’s no food
Or there’s no room
But I have both
And so many don’t

Our lives and our meanings
Have become assets of greed
we are no longer the gardeners
we are the weeds

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Sarah Muldoon

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I am twenty years young from Ireland, I write to express and to say the things I could never make audible. I have little academic knowledge of poetry but I'm okay with that! I live to gaze at stars and question everything, my ultimate dream is to reset the factory settings of humanity...
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Of Wile, Weeds and Tides

Of Wile, Weeds and Tides short poem

When mine own would not take my case, Saying over and over it was drama repeat. I had no choice but to sway it laze, Sweep it under the rug, making riddance its seat. Agony, distress, mindlessness, unrest All showed