Hope
How can something so fleeting,
be so important?
How can the only reason I’m here,
Be so fragile?
How can we spend our entire lives
Chasing something unreal?
The Abyss
I shouted in the abyss to confirm I was alone
Remember
Gone is the age of the remembered.
Only the quickly famed and forgotten remain.
Tale and song of old are just that,
Old.
The yearning of notoriety will be fulfilled in instances.
Never to be remembered again.
Gone is the age of the heroes
There are no more marks to be made
There are footsteps on the moon
The west was settled
The jungles mapped
The oceans explored
Mediocrity is exceptional
About the Creator
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Grow up
They say that growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional. I disagree, we are forced to become adults. We have bills to pay, taxes to do. We can try to grasp and strain to hold on to that little bit of childhood magic we have left but it is not enough. We see our childhood friends grow so far apart. Even if you still connect it’s not the same childlike energy. I so clearly remember playing with my friend laughing about the silliest stuff. I have not seen him in years… he is still the best friend I have.
By brant paxman4 years ago in Poets
One Unchecked Box
"Republished" because it was the only way to add the embed for the newly recorded audio version of this story due to the Top Story badge. Plus it serves as a nice, informal announcement of the podcast's revival for another season (go subscribe!):
By Stephen A. Roddewig5 days ago in Fiction
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