Obscuro

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The artsy ramblings of a film student.


0 likes : 239 views : September 28, 2015

Walking – stuck on escalators between walkers and standers.
Repetitive pattern of leaders,
Ripping dusty pages from their gullet, and forcing them down mine.
My stomach churns and twists and tries to reject,
Every dusty sheet.
“I didn't sleep well” say I,
As fist and paper descends down my neck.
I remember the faces of cherished people,
Mother,
Father,
Sister,
Wife.
I cry because I miss them.
I'm scared because I miss myself.

This is a poem I wrote while I was alone with my thoughts and some horrible music for a couple of hours at uni, and as you might have guessed, it's about my previous post.

The opening line reflects the monotony of the university setting. Everyone is the same, and everyone co-exists. The escalators are a place where frequently, unstoppable forces meet immovable objects.

Every class seems to be the same experience. A teacher lecturing us on how to do things to meet the university standard. We can try to ignore this teaching, but the success of our time at university relies on it, and so we are forced to comply.

Personally this leaves me upset to the point where I'm not sure what I want to do, but as everyone else goes along with the normality of it, I blame my low spirits on a lack of sleep and force myself to allow the process.

I think of home, of getting out and going home because that's where I can be myself and let my creation exist the way I want it to and it'll be okay there. It makes me sad that I'm not at home with my loved ones, and it makes me scared that I seem to have been stuck in this place so long that I feel like I'm losing myself to it.

-Seeka.

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