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taylor-gangerPoems
I can't stop living my life in other people's shoes It brings me joy to see what they do To see a painter's craft; It's like ecstasy to peer into their head And feel everything they've put onto a canvas To hear a musician's melodies Drag me into wonderment How do they do that so well? To read the words of a writer Live in their world Have my heart squeezed And bleed colors I've never imagined They're all me I can fathom all of those feelings I can, I can The words The hues The emotions The notes The metaphors All of those slivers of existence I can experience them all I want to Live in their shoes But they're not my **** shoes And they don't fit; my feet are too small And I know an artist's life is nothing to envy And most of them didn't recognize their own talent I don't recognize my own talent Am I in their shoes now? Or just talentless? When I look down at my own feet I don't see anything but stumps meant for walking And when I walk to a mirror I see a fool who keeps trying on other people's shoes Asking if they fit As if anyone else would ever know I see a man who needs his own shoes
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC
A Man Who Needs His Own Shoes
I can't stop living my life in other people's shoes It brings me joy to see what they do To see a painter's craft; It's like ecstasy to peer into their head And feel everything they've put onto a canvas To hear a musician's melodies Drag me into wonderment How do they do that so well? To read the words of a writer Live in their world Have my heart squeezed And bleed colors I've never imagined They're all me I can fathom all of those feelings I can, I can The words The hues The emotions The notes The metaphors All of those slivers of existence I can experience them all I want to Live in their shoes But they're not my **** shoes And they don't fit; my feet are too small And I know an artist's life is nothing to envy And most of them didn't recognize their own talent I don't recognize my own talent Am I in their shoes now? Or just talentless? When I look down at my own feet I don't see anything but stumps meant for walking And when I walk to a mirror I see a fool who keeps trying on other people's shoes Asking if they fit As if anyone else would ever know I see a man who needs his own shoes
I only want to do what brings me joy, but what do I do when nothing does?
#existential#anxiety#free#form#art#depression
taylor-ganger
Written by
taylor-ganger
Ohio
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC
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