I wrote this poem because I was very upset and struggling to deal with the emotional conflict that comes with being sentient and smart enough to be nihilistic. When relationships break down there is a fracture in your life that is difficult to mend. Everything looks uncertain, diminished in it's reliability to be as it is. How to act or what would result in the least amount of heart break, or even what you want becomes uncertain and frightening. Life, love and conflict are the themes, I hope I've captured them well enough.
I don't have a name for this poem (I am terrible at being able to encapsulate the entire spirit of anything into a single element) but I might call it 'Sisyphus' - the King who was punished for his chronic lying to forever push a boulder up a hill only for it to fall back to the start when he neared the peak.
Or I could name it The Impossible Game because life and love have no rules, except the ones we construct culturally and then often we break them.
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In light of all of this, when all is said and done,
Life is never easy and life is never "won"
It starts where it all might end, and ends before it starts.
Nothing lasts forever, not memories nor hearts.
Love is a whisper in the mind: a sweet "forget me not".
But in this soured head of mine all things forever rot.
Lies spun true, like straw to gold, turn your eyes to lust
So you are blind to see the cracks when my armor erodes to rust.
No one wants to be the hedgehog, or porcupine of quill.
To get too close to others stings, for others it may kill.
In light of all of this, when all is said and done,
Life is never easy and life is never "won".
Every wars been lost before and every slight been scored.
Every scar starts as a cut and every one been scorned.
What is right and what is left (of us) if good intentions turn lurid?
What paths lead to fortune and what paths lead to ruin?
In light of all of this, when all is said and done,
Life is never easy and life is never "won".
Contort confusion into conflict, skirmish with reality.
Raiding answers to grasp some sense, no break of bitter clarity.
If nothing is ever simple and simply nothing ever is,
Is nothing ever after and nothing ever bliss?
It ends where it all might start, and dies before the end.
Nothing lasts forever, not lovers nor your friends.
Love is a whisper in the heart: a sweet "forget me not"
But in this festered heart of mine all things forever rot.
In light of all of this, when all is said and done,
Life is never easy and life is never "won".
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