literature

Fatal Attraction

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pippieemo's avatar
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Published:
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Literature Text

There comes a point
Where being someone
Else’s instrument
To happiness
Becomes ultimately tiring.

Constant sacrifice
Of one’s self
Becomes a daily ritual;
Autonomy and freedom
Are luxuries
Not of this world.

To constantly vilify yourself
In the hope of it serving
A much greater purpose,
And then to achieve nothing
But discontentment and sorrow
Makes the process all
That more intolerable.

Nooses looking more attractive
As each day passes...
*has been having a shitty time recently*
© 2006 - 2024 pippieemo
Comments5
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setsunai's avatar
This poem I also had to comment on after reading all your others, and especially just after 'Busy'.
I really like this, but less and less as you it gets towards the end. I understand that this is probably because it's a personal reflection of your thoughts at a particular moment, but I feel it has the potential to take a different, more expansive view of relationships which I indentify more with if this poem simply ended after the first part, and to a slightly lesser extent, also containing the second.
The very concept of art makes the ability of the artist to control the interpretation of their work to a fine extent impossible, and as such I'd prefer to comment on this piece in the context of my own view of it.
This poem is one that I identify with very strongly, though not from the point of view of the writer. I feel that many issues in relationships and identity that I have experienced are beautifully exposed by these few lines, and it's very refreshing to see them from this angle that I quite possibly would have otherwise never imagined myself.
Perhaps this is all a bit ambiguous, but well done. A fantastic piece of work.