Poem: The grave and the game

I made a very cynical tweet on a whim (see below) and then decided, hey, I’m going to make that into a nice dark cynical poem. Why not, eh?

Of course.
It is the way of the world
And there is nowhere to go.
Dance in our chains all the way to the grave.
'God' forbid we have an actual original thought.
Do an original thing.
Doesn't matter anyway, we all have the same chains.
Do the same dance.
Same grave.

— 🇨🇦Lily Hamilton✍ (@Lil_hamilton_) December 29, 2019

The image I put it on is a drawing I did a while back. Thought it worked well for it really.

Anyway, the poem reminds me of that one I wrote drunk, which was weird indeed. As this was spawned from a migraine and sleep deprivation. Migraines make for weird thoughts. Pain and auras and aphasia and auras. And then the lack of sleep makes you loopy and weird. Not to even mention the fact I was so Moody and depressed due to the pain and lack of my seasonal affective depression med the last few days. So its a mucked up mess of a peom. And I’m not much of a poet, as you all know. Like my art… it is what it is. I like to do it on a whim but I can’t say it is all that great. Once in a while, I write a really great one. Like when lightning strikes. But it is far from consistent. And maybe I could with this if I put more thought into it and had some damn sleep. Maybe tomorrow I will.

The GRAVE Attempt #1

It’s the way of the world,
You see.
It isn’t up to me.
And there’s nowhere to go,
Dance in our chains,
All the way to the grave.

Sell your soul for a Like
Not a piece of yourself can you save
Have an original thought
Or simply rot.
Do an original thing,
Or not anything.

Doesn’t matter anyway,
We all go the same way,
We all have the same chains,
Do the same dance,
to the same grave.

Nikki Albert

THE GAME Attempt # 2- after sleep and no migraine

It’s the way of the world and there’s nowhere to go,
We dance in our chains all the way to the grave.
Hey, hey there it’s fine, it’s all part of the show.
We are all part of the machine and society’s slaves

We dance in our chains all the way to the grave.
Fight, fight the good fight!
We are all part of the machine and society’s slaves,
It doesn’t matter if you’re right.

Fight, fight the good fight!
Hey, hey there it’s fine, it’s part of the show.
It doesn’t matter if you’re right.
It’s the way of the world and there’s nowhere to go.

Nikki Albert

Sort of like them both. For different reasons. Well, there ya go. A poem on the same theme done completely different in style 2 ways.

See more awesome poetry

Spring in the air
Shattered
The Line