Moritz reflects on his life. Angst-y poetry…yes! If you like this, tell me. If enough of you like it and tell me you like it, I'll do one for Wendla too. Thanks and enjoy.
Moritz
What on God's green Earth is wrong with me?
I don't do sadness!
I don't do sadness!
I don't do sadness!
Not even a little bit!
What is wrong with me?
What is so wrong with me,
That I would start to do sadness?
… … …
I'm really trying to think here…
But feel free to jump in any time!
I always said that sadness wasn't worth it…
That feeling sadness…
Wouldn't make me a man.
But
Sadness
Is really, truly,
A feeling.
A feeling.
An emotion.
And,
When you think about it…
Feeling something.
Breathing it,
Living it,
Taking it in…
That makes you a man.
But…
Ignoring it,
Refusing to feel it,
Breathe it,
Live it,
Take it in…
That makes you a boy.
A baby boy.
A sad baby boy.
Oh,
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Sadness.
It does not just sail away.
It stays
With you
All night
And all day.
Sadness.
To do without sadness,
My friends,
That is quite impossible.
Sadness,
Is rather mandatory,
My friends.
Why?
Because sadness,
In itself,
Is a feeling.
And, well,
Feeling something,
Feeling anything…
That's better then
Feeling
Nothing at all.
Spring and summer,
Every other day,
Blue wind gets so sad…
The trouble with that blue wind is,
It never knew
Feeling.
Feeling.
Feeling happy, feeling sad, feeling scared, feeling…
Feeling anything…
Is so much better
Then feeling
Nothing at all.
Oh Ilse,
Sweet Ilse,
I am truly sorry.
Dear God, all I had to do was say yes!
But, Ilse,
I said no.
I said no.
I am truly sorry, Ilse.
All I had to do was say yes.
But please,
I ask you not to blame me.
Please, Ilse,
Don't blame the man – the boy I was.
Actually, scratch that.
I wasn't even a boy.
I was...nothing.
I had become nothing, made myself nothing…
All those tests, all those papers…
None of it matters now.
I had worried myself down to nothing.
Worry and fear made me
Nothing.
Nothing of what I was.
I was strong, I was kind...
But I had withered myself down...
To nothing.
To a shell of the something that I really, truly was.
What I was…
What was I?
A man?
A boy?
What?
What was I?
I may never know…
But
What I do know is…
I
Was not
What I
Had become.
That gun, that gun,
That stupid gun…
You know what?
It's funny…
It's really kind of funny…
I really couldn't tell you…
What I felt.
Did that bullet…
That stupid, stupid, stupid bullet…
Go straight through me?
Did I just feel pain?
Did I feel something go through me?
Did I really feel the bullet?
Did I feel the life going out of me?
Bleeding, slowly, out of me?
It's kind of funny…
That I
Felt
Nothing.
I don't do sadness,
Not even a little bit,
Just don't need it in my life,
Don't want any part of it.
But you know what the really sad part was?
I should have
Wanted
All of it.