Why do I think this way?
Constantly facing the worst,
So I automatically expect it.

Why do I react this way?
I automatically expect it,
But I still feel miserable every time.

Why do I do this to myself?
I feel miserable every time,
Yet I take the chance time after time.

I constantly face the worst,
So I automatically expect it.
But something inside me always says,
"This time will be different."

Frustration.

I must write,
But I cannot explain.

I must write,
But words are useless.

I must write,
But all attempts are futile.

A poet's true frustration:
I must write,
But I can't.