Something tells me I'm not cut out for this.
So, I'm not listening to 'it'.
Who says what I'm cut out for?
Who says what I'm built for?
People above me seem to believe what they say goes.
but they are only above me in their own mind.
because they put themselves on the pedestal,
they climb on their high-horse and then build the pedestal
ON THE HORSE.
They play king of the mountain.
"You there," they decree from their heights,
"you can't do that." "you aren't good enough."
"That's not the plan we have for you."
But I don't listen to them.
I can' barely hear them from down here.
Down in this hole I've dug for myself.
It's kind of nice but I can still hear them, I know they're still up there.
Yelling. Commanding. Touting.
"No, no! Do it like this."
And the masses follow.
The rest of us are as yet undecided.
Or too decided.
Either clawing and scratching our way out of the hole,
or digging ourselves deeper,
trying to drown out the noise.
My hole is almost finished,
not much further now.
I just want the silence. the peace. the comfort.
Everyone else can have the spots at the top.
I'll stay down here in my hole.
Soon, though, I can stop digging.
just as soon as I reach the bottom of this 6 feet.