Poetry by Sylvia Gray “Nonsense and Pineapples”


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The sun is up,

Yet I am down…

My life is curved;

It makes a frown.

The people here

In my hometown

Are drenched in hate;

I’ll watch them drown.

I love these fools;

they are my love.

I am in love…

Wait, what? Sick of

All of these things

That they’re doing.

These stupid flings.

That all of them

Are part of, and

I watch as they’re

Continuing

To break hearts

Apart because

They are not smart;

They’re in a play,

They flunk their part.

Because living…

Is a losing art.

They fail to see

What I am seeing.

They aren’t with me

In mind or being.

They all are fleeing.

From what they fear.

And I’m agreeing;

They’re all insane.

I can’t help feeling…

I should be freeing

Them from themselves.

Because I care

For their well-being

And my insanity

Is contagious.

These things I hear

They are outrageous.

They are not real,

They cannot feel,

My mind is famous

For the things it

Thinks when I’m alone.

My thoughts, they are

Flirtacious, these

Romantic dreams

And fantasies,

About my life,

About my death,

About the blood

My wrists have shed.

I should be dead.

I lay in bed,

And question this;

My existence,

My relevance.

My head is sick;

I should be dead.

I don’t make sense.

I never have.

My people,

They don’t understand.

I’m lost inside,

Too lost to save.

My crazy mind

Will be my grave.

I am not brave.

I am a coward,

Not empowered,

Rather flowered

With all these thoughts

That often soured,

The best of days.

I am nonsense,

It’s no contest.

My mind’s intense,

Each thought brings pain,

I’m truly insane.

This poem’s rhymes,

They remind me

Of all the times

That I have found

It’s hard to rhyme

And hard to see

Through all the tears

Surrounding me.

I’ve tried so hard

To become free,

It’s hard, as most

Of you will see.

It’s hard to be

Someone like you.

It’s hard in any

Point of you.

You live, you try,

And then you die.

You may as well

Just say goodbye

To all your people;

Please don’t cry.

I’m not saying

You shouldn’t try.

I’m saying that

Some people die,

And some people

Attempt to fly,

And breach the sky.

It’s gone awry;

My life will crash

And burn today.

I’m not okay.

I’ve tried to be,

But in the end,

I have no say

In how I feel;

I’m not okay.

This nonsense poem,

It’s all I own.

The only thing

I have that’s grown.

It’s grown and yet,

It’s still so small.

It doesn’t mean

A thing at all.

It won’t make sense

To anyone.

For me it’s fun,

and I’ve begun

To wonder where

And who I’m from.

Now I can’t stop;

My mind is gone

It’s broken now,

While it was strong

So long ago

My flow’s not great

But that’s okay.

No-one to judge,

No-one to hate

Nonsense and I,

Pineapples, too.

Makes sense to me,

But not to you.

And that’s okay;

It’s also true.

Pineapples, they

Mean nothing to

You;

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Poetry by Sylvia Gray “Nonsense and Pineapples”