Pessimist Poetry’s Foreword: Buried Alive Lies Poem

This is kind of a follow up poem on my previous piece about flying off the rails. They kind of go hand in hand, but this poem explores the concept of being buried alive through the lies that we tell ourselves every day. I’m not exception in that we lie to ourselves and gloss over our shortcomings when they need to be addressed. One or two lies might be a drop in the bucket, but if we delude ourselves too much we’ll be buried alive by our lies. It can have serious effects on our well-being and only serve to stifle any kind of growth toward self-actualization. It’s important to be honest with ourselves and the tribulations that we experience in our daily lives instead of placing blame elsewhere.

Buried alive by countless lies, I can feel their weight pressing against my depressed rib cage,

offering the shallowest of breaths as the light dims at the edge of my periphery.

Too often I deluded myself, casting the pebbles of deceit into a bucket I carry every day

One or two are insignificant,

but they slowly add up,

pound after pound

until I collapse, covered in it

Panic sets in at the realization that I’ve been killing mself

Now the consequences rest on my chest

The weight of my lies burying me alive.

Pessimist Poetry’s Afterword: Buried Alive Lies Poem

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.” -Fyodor Dostoyevsky

What did you think of this Buried Alive Lies Poem? Let me know in the comments below!