Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click herethrust into an uncaring world,
tethered to bodies
that cry out in anguish for
foodwaterwarmthlove.
We frantically
try to placate them,
tiptoeing along
a crumbling cliff,
knowing each step
could be our last, and so
we take refuge
in the comfort of skin,
seeking to regain for just a moment
our fleshy Edens,
and thus
we are born.
A somewhat of a bleak cliché. Poetically well crafted, with imagery that works effortlessly, the poem becomes a tyrannical disempowerment of human agency. The poet accepts meaninglessness as the inescapable human condition.
I watched his birth
a keen struggle
against a womb reluctant
to release its charge
into a world this child sought
with eager energy
if you think about this, how would you rank it on the cliche-o-meter?
4 is what i left