In celebration of National Poetry Month, here is an acrostic — A poetry form in which the first letter of each line spells the same words as in the title of the poem.
susurrus of muted voices.
Those uncaring words,
inching slowly, but surely, closer to that
sea of oblivion.
Where are those dreams now?
Hushed wishes keeping me awake at night -
all lost in this mad craze
to be on the top, to be the best.
Is this what I had worked all my life for?
Chaos all around, a world up in flames
heedless souls battering me with hate
over and over again — that
same life I’d once yearned for, why does it now
elude all attempts at a reconciliation?
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