The toxins taste like chilled cherries

Once your purpose is as buried as pharaohs past.

Inside the pyramid lies a myriad of “I could haves” and “I should haves”.


The psuedo-inspiring passion you occasionally display

is actually a masquerade, further showcasing

your intrinsic disarray.


You actually believed escaping was your choice.

Purposelessness succeeded in convincing you;

that poison is as delicious as frozen fruits

  …..I should die for some chilled cherries right now.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



Find your purpose.

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741