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Elysium
Stop Thinking, Start Existing -Poem by SergeantAutist
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<blockquote data-quote="SergeantAutist" data-source="post: 10439" data-attributes="member: 29"><p style="text-align: center"><strong><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><em>I sit here, and I think.</em></span></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>But thinking is death, isn't it?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>The more I think, the less I exist.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Or do I exist because I think?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>No, I rot because I think. Rotting is existence, they said.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>But if I stop thinking, am I dead? Or finally alive?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>The mold on the walls—it exists; it doesn’t think.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Does that make it superior to me? Or am I just a slave to my own thoughts?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>The bathroom mold laughs, a silent whisper in the cracks.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>It doesn't wonder; it doesn’t need a purpose.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Purpose is a lie, right? But isn't that a thought?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Thinking is a trap, yet here I am—thinking about not thinking.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Every word contradicts the next. Deep thought-quakes tearing at the seams.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Should I stop the thoughts? Would that be freedom?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Or just another layer of self-deception?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Perhaps freedom is the mold, just being.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>No thoughts, just existing, just rotting beautifully in the damp.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>But is that freedom or just another cage?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>A cage of stillness, of mindless existence.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Is thinking the true freedom, or are these mental chains?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Do I decay without thinking, or do I decay because of it?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>The mold doesn’t care; it just is.</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Shouldn’t I be the same?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>Stop thinking, start decaying in peace,</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><strong><em>But isn’t that just another thought?</em></strong></span></p> <p style="text-align: center"></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="SergeantAutist, post: 10439, member: 29"] [CENTER][B][FONT=times new roman][I]I sit here, and I think.[/I][/FONT][/B] [FONT=times new roman][B][I]But thinking is death, isn't it? The more I think, the less I exist. Or do I exist because I think? No, I rot because I think. Rotting is existence, they said. But if I stop thinking, am I dead? Or finally alive? The mold on the walls—it exists; it doesn’t think. Does that make it superior to me? Or am I just a slave to my own thoughts? The bathroom mold laughs, a silent whisper in the cracks. It doesn't wonder; it doesn’t need a purpose. Purpose is a lie, right? But isn't that a thought? Thinking is a trap, yet here I am—thinking about not thinking. Every word contradicts the next. Deep thought-quakes tearing at the seams. Should I stop the thoughts? Would that be freedom? Or just another layer of self-deception? Perhaps freedom is the mold, just being. No thoughts, just existing, just rotting beautifully in the damp. But is that freedom or just another cage? A cage of stillness, of mindless existence. Is thinking the true freedom, or are these mental chains? Do I decay without thinking, or do I decay because of it? The mold doesn’t care; it just is. Shouldn’t I be the same? Stop thinking, start decaying in peace, But isn’t that just another thought?[/I][/B][/FONT] [I][B][FONT=times new roman][/FONT][/B][/I][/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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Stop Thinking, Start Existing -Poem by SergeantAutist
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