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We left our homes in the name of discovery

That the eyes of far-off traffic lights

Might gaze upon our faces

To see us glaring back, unafraid,

Grins challenging with whatever truths were pulled

From the bleeding gums of our hometowns.

Under cover of darkness and with false alibis

We took to seeking truths on the back of our own lies,

With windows deeply tinted to invite all observers

To taste the unknown and lust for answers,

To cup their hands around their eyes

And press their faces against our outlines.

We were of the age

That most would call “impressionable”

And true, we craved impressions

For what greater offense than emptiness

Exists for three blank pages

Once told the traits of ink?

We planned to vandalize our tongues

With all the words they marked unworthy,

Planned to stay up late and think of ways

To make them disapprove.

We planned to carry our own minds so far

We'd find them of no use.

And when they came across us,

We pounded fists against the sidewalk

Beat our chests, sang of ideals

And tore hearts to the ground

For the fact that we still registered visible

Proved to us our failures.


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Angst. Ennui. Being dissatisfied with life's illusions or delusions.

Very good poem, EleCivil.

Oh yeah, I've been there too, but in a different way.

Most of us get through it with a little help and lots of toughness. I think midwesterners call it "grit" or "sand."

I'd say, be gritty, be sandy, and don't give up. You guys and girls out there are stronger than you think you are, even when you don't feel strong enough. You might even find a friend who's strong enough to help you out. -- And when life throws dirt at ya -- throw it back!

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