I’m tired of being told I’m talented
I’m weary of having idea after idea
I’m angry I can never see a project done
I’m sick of striving and failure
I’m tired of having so many things to say
And those words falling on deaf ears and hardened hearts
I’m frustrated with being asked again and again
“can’t you write anything happy?”
I’m exhausted by explaining that happiness is not what I feel
I try to show the depths of my soul
I endeavor to expose the rawness of our humanity
To draw attention to the pain we all share
I struggle to show that we are all in the same boat
That we all need a hand to hold
I talk about the subjects that most people want to avoid
I don’t paint fairy tales for escapist fantasy
For we don’t, can’t live in a nonexistent place
No matter how hard we pretend that pain isn’t real
It will find a way to remind us
Just like now
When I’m so sick of writing
But here I am again
Typing away on my keyboard
The proverbial exercise in futility
Because few will read this in full
Dismissing me after the first few lines
And even those that finish the piece
Might applaud my skill
But they’ll walk away with no further introspection
And my exertions will be for nothing once again
I hate my talent
I loathe my ideas
Yet I cannot keep silent
My pain renewed
But in this agony I am reminded
Hope is not found looking down
it is only discovered by looking up

Forums: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.