Solitude has never been more uproarious
A constant chaos of this and that… never-ending
“You did this to yourself.”
Wide awake, can’t tell apart reality
A 100 beats frozen in a moment
Sinking… forever sinking…
The mind is unforgiving.
I agree with Mr. Darcy, uproarious is definitely a $20 USD word. You packed so much into your short poem, it is not always that our conscience is the one that accuses us, Satan is a master at it!
I agree, that sometimes, it can be the hardest thing to forgive one's self.
Added to my Favorites.
Firstly, I like this poem, especially for the word 'uproarious' that is really a good word. :O)
We often beat ourselves up, saying we did this to ourselves. Sometimes this is true, but often there are a few reasons for fate. Still, after the palpitations have ebbed, I think you'll find forgiveness.
I just wanted to suggest an acrostic. You have 'say wast' at the moment, by adding an 'e' line you would have 'say waste' this would, I think, ties in nicely with your theme.
Just a thought.