Human Condition
Is it really real?
Everything,
All that I feel?
Am I always there?
Here?
I am where?
All secerets of the world before me.
All the knowledge,
Yet I see can't see.
What is it's meaning?
This vice,
These strange feelings.
Trapped in this heaven,
This hell,
This libo is my haven.
My mind it can never sit still,
I fear,
I am deafly ill.
Never content,
more always,
That's my only intent.
I am very sick,
I'll be gone,
Ever so quick.
My cognition,
it is,
The human condition.
Everything,
All that I feel?
Am I always there?
Here?
I am where?
All secerets of the world before me.
All the knowledge,
Yet I see can't see.
What is it's meaning?
This vice,
These strange feelings.
Trapped in this heaven,
This hell,
This libo is my haven.
My mind it can never sit still,
I fear,
I am deafly ill.
Never content,
more always,
That's my only intent.
I am very sick,
I'll be gone,
Ever so quick.
My cognition,
it is,
The human condition.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.