Author | Christopher Freitag

Author: Christopher Freitag

I write poetry as an escape from a weird and troubled world. It is also the result of insomnia so.. I write quite often. My poetry tends to be sad and occasionally more than sad. Maybe though.. My words may help a few people. Its all I've ever wanted to do. Hopefully less people will feel alone.

Poetry

Heartbroken Autopilot

17,January,2021 by Christopher Freitag

A normal day waking up
I fetch me a quick dose of a nation's situation
The television on as briefly as possible

Down my hallway, a shower, steeling myself
Applying my image to shield vulnerabilities

Briskly walking back through the hallway

Raising a middle finger to a blank tv screen
So much pain..

Coffee or an energy drink?
Maybe vodka but I need to be able to think

Reaching like a tired Monster for a Redbull
I still can't escape by flying away..

Counter drawers, withdrawing a dose..

An antidepressant placebo
This land's status always makes it both though

Anyways..

Light of the new day looms
I'd love to just witness compassion

Yeah.. Its.. A norm...

Manufactured Tears

17,January,2021 by Christopher Freitag

Years pass
Every second seems to gain more mass..
Seconds are so impossible..
One can be a moment or a year..

The weight of a human heart..
It can grow so severe..

No medical text can define a human heart..

No one wants to just fade
No one wants to slip away for no reason..

Its as if some are desperate to live
The process just rips them apart..

I fear for the human heart..
Not for its nature..

For how it can appear..

Life is fast and slow..

Swimming in Manufactured Tears..

Very created..

Very real..

-------

Hold onto hope.

Never. Let. It. Go.

...

American Citizen

17,January,2021 by Christopher Freitag

Its like a cold pinnacle on a mountain

Compassionate but a bit crazy
Doesn't matter anyway
I found my way yesterday
I should have applied it for today

I tried forging a new tomorrow
So I have hope in hand..
I'll never cave to the demands..

In honesty I've never felt more numb..
I guess compassion fractured my stature..

I write a poem or two
But I'm as weak as a feather
I made some money but..
It revealed the monsters..
Here and there then there and here again
Slain dreams are everywhere..

I pick up the pad and pen
I need to vent it out again..

This paper my Heaven as a pen becomes will..

How is it working and what am i worth?

Yeah I helped a few people..

But my heart is on full display for the public so its residing in a poetic hearse my words are my cu...