Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

I've always conformed to what is customary
Now I am tired
I've taken a huge leap
In order to save myself

Sometimes, pushing yourself
Would just drain you in the end
The dream destination
Just suddenly becomes blurry

I had it all planned out
But I never thought
That the process
Would simply turn things around

Hopefully, I would find
The thing that makes me full
In which I will feel joy in the pain
As well as peace within

In the pursuit
Of being the person
Others wanted me to be
What I thought I was fitting for me
I eventually lost
Myself and continuously sought
What has happened
To the person
I was meant to be

Perhaps I can say it was my passion
To think vividly and put that picture into a composition
To come up with silly adjectives and a strong emotion
But perhaps, I was wrong about that notion

This system that has corrupted me
Where compassion is much like the dead sea
Those students that hide their knowledge and secrets
All being sly and sitting beside their best bets

Reaching out a hand seems quite a challenge
With incapability to pick up a lecture seems like an overwhelming package
People were fascinated with lessons such as "competitive advantage"
When deep down inside, I was already damaged

Thank you, for creating a war inside my head
That expressing myself would be a dread
So judge me if I loathe this useless algorithm
Because in these words I now struggle to find the perfect rhythm

-j.t.