Crises of An Existentialist

Sat, 05/30/2015 - 21:13 -- Sylis
The dark night of my soul
Please save me
If it takes hold
I don't know which way is home
I'm lost and it's oh so cold
I hate how I'm so alone
I need something to take ahold
I'm left adrifting with the flow
But I don't know if I'm afloat
I'm sinking
I can't breathe, I'm drowning
No duh
But I can see and it's astounding
I see the bleak surrounding
I isolate the sounding
Of this crisis.
Is this truly my existence?
Searching for something unmissing
Something's amiss, isn't it?
But I sublimate these passions
Into self-gratifying distractions
Turn my asphyxiation into action
So now I'm tracking my recessive regression
From an adolescent who's lacking in patience
To an adult who's ready to support his nation.
But I suppose it's all up for debation.
This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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