Poetic Injustice

Mirroring my shadows,
I call them reflections.
Sitting back, I wallow,
I see my life in sad sections. 


So long so long my friend.
I'm drowning in the skies, so shallow.
My thoughts so deafening,
My emotions so loud.

So distant from myself, from Earth to stars,
Still the bittersweet greeting makes its way,
Every evening from afar.

Am I grateful for my selfishness?
Or selfish for what I don't have?
Am I happy for my sadness?
Or am I sad for my happiness?

How is it fair? A question fair enough.
How does it matter? A question unanswered.
If words matter more than why do actions speak louder?

Lost identities, lost minds, lost souls.
This isn't how we were supposed to be.
Hell! We don't even know what we were meant to be.

What we lose, comes around in another form.
But does it's value matter? Replacing isn't sacrifice.

A genre unexplored, Poetic Injustice.

-SCZ