Feb 2016
What excuse can I give,
to be let go,
to be let live?
My passion has burned out,
embers of my will burning,
no longer.
Tempt me out of my shell,
why don't you,
why don't you stop?
Remind me of why I failed,
go on,
go on that journey for me.
I'm tired, okay?
Let my weak heart beat to barrens,
and barren to dust.
Let my shards of bones,
rattle like maracas within,
the sleeves of my destitute muscles.
Let the scratching of my,
weary "days gone by" voice,
remind you to avoid my troubles.
Forget about me,
so that not even remembering me,
will rustle my grave.
You stare at me in the restaurant,
when I say all this, plainly,
your mouth gaping open.
My excuses have prepared for me,
a greedy grave; I stand up, bow,
"Excuse me." I walk away.
to be let go,
to be let live?
My passion has burned out,
embers of my will burning,
no longer.
Tempt me out of my shell,
why don't you,
why don't you stop?
Remind me of why I failed,
go on,
go on that journey for me.
I'm tired, okay?
Let my weak heart beat to barrens,
and barren to dust.
Let my shards of bones,
rattle like maracas within,
the sleeves of my destitute muscles.
Let the scratching of my,
weary "days gone by" voice,
remind you to avoid my troubles.
Forget about me,
so that not even remembering me,
will rustle my grave.
You stare at me in the restaurant,
when I say all this, plainly,
your mouth gaping open.
My excuses have prepared for me,
a greedy grave; I stand up, bow,
"Excuse me." I walk away.
It doesn't have to be a restaurant.
You could be an adolescent talking to a teacher, a lawyer talking to a client, a father talking to a child, a spy talking to a CIA director, a hermit talking to a pet, a police officer talking to a chief, a political campaign manager talking to a candidate, or a President talking to a nation; inside the body and mind of these people can be one ubiquitous feeling, "I want to give up right now and be victorious as I tell you, 'I quit.' "
I've been getting very tired and felt this poem suited a desire of mine.
It is and it isn't unique to me: the sense that I can never be good at anything. Or that I can never be good at anything that I want to be good at.
I hope that one day I will be able to look back on this and laugh.
That day, I hope that I will finally understand what it is to achieve something that makes me happy, but more so that I have found something that I will only doubt on the "very" worst days, yet bounce back without a care.
Perhaps that is too much to ask, and I'm not that kind of person "uggh"
What is your greatest flaw?
How do you overcome it, and what battle scars get your gears grinding on cold nights?
#boredom #tiresome #pain #enemy #emptiness #apathy #regret #help #desire
You could be an adolescent talking to a teacher, a lawyer talking to a client, a father talking to a child, a spy talking to a CIA director, a hermit talking to a pet, a police officer talking to a chief, a political campaign manager talking to a candidate, or a President talking to a nation; inside the body and mind of these people can be one ubiquitous feeling, "I want to give up right now and be victorious as I tell you, 'I quit.' "
I've been getting very tired and felt this poem suited a desire of mine.
It is and it isn't unique to me: the sense that I can never be good at anything. Or that I can never be good at anything that I want to be good at.
I hope that one day I will be able to look back on this and laugh.
That day, I hope that I will finally understand what it is to achieve something that makes me happy, but more so that I have found something that I will only doubt on the "very" worst days, yet bounce back without a care.
Perhaps that is too much to ask, and I'm not that kind of person "uggh"
What is your greatest flaw?
How do you overcome it, and what battle scars get your gears grinding on cold nights?
#boredom #tiresome #pain #enemy #emptiness #apathy #regret #help #desire
