Fuming

Shackled, pinned down
In a mind that rages,
Wails, bawls, throws a temper,
And boils over in contempt
Over its own spinelessness.

I forget to blink sometimes,
Consciously choose not to do so
at other times,
Afraid of succumbing
To the darkness of it all—
The sheer helplessness,
A profound inability
To do anything but watch
A few diabolical souls
Wield inequitable power
And wreak havoc on mankind…

I do not know
How to be here anymore,
Where to go,
Or even where to look anymore.
I am sorry for being here
And not being able
to change a thing.
I am sorry, my endlessly fuming mind,
For not being here at all.

©Aaysid

“Nothing is harder on the soul, than the smell of dreams, while they’re evaporating.”

Mahmoud Darwish

Featured image from Pexels

14 thoughts on “Fuming”

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  3. So incredibly powerful and painful. Resonant, too, as always. I’m afraid the final stanza is becoming the prevailing sentiment among humans nowadays. Utter, overwhelming despair and a sense of being powerless to effect change. It’s untenable, unsustainable, and the guilt it brings us is crippling. Is there any hope left for us?

    Your poetry is profound, Aaysid. Sincere thanks, my friend, for sharing your voice with us. You’re making a difference in this world. 😊

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    1. Thank you, Mike, for your kind words. I truly appreciate your insight. It is a sad world right now, but I hope that humanity will triumph over evil soon. I am glad to know people like you who feel things ever so deeply and aspire to make a difference. 🙏🌸

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  4. Incredibly powerful Aaysid as always.
    “I do not know how to be here anymore
    I am sorry for being here
    And not being able
    to change a thing.”

    I’m sooo happy you are here in a frustrating world to bounce around with .. 😘

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