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Enigmatic_friendPoems
I sit Stare Wonder of the things that aren't here but are somewhere else. Beige ceilings feel small when you stare at them all the time. There's a sky beyond the plaster- A dark sky that's full of animals and stars and clouds and noise. Yet here I am With nothing but the white noise of a heater and a faint ringing in my ears. I think of all the time I waste thinking. I could learn a different language. Being able to speak to someone in many different cultures and continents would be interesting. I could practice guitar or piano, learn a new instrument, create new music. I love the way music twists and spills from my fingers like an ethereal waterfall. I could draw and create a masterpiece. Acrylic flows through my veins and keeps my heart pumping. Watercolor dyes my body and my hair, Washing me over in a wave of bright color. Chalk dusts my skin, leaving me with a blurred finish. I could exercise. It would surely boost my poor self image. I constantly look in the mirror and see a hideous shell. Mending relationships and talking would fantastic, A splendid way to make good use of my time. A way to use my present to correct my past and improve the future. Studying would be a good thing to do, as well. The great me knows that my grades sure do need it. I cannot deliver disappointment to my parents. Maybe I could work, earn some more money More money makes mankind merrier; So it appears, money makes man merry. I'd be contributing to my society and be making use of my time. OR... or... I could continue to stare at a blank canvas above me, Smooth as silk, And I can think of all the things I could be doing right now Instead of actually doing them Because America is a nation of dreamers, Not doers.
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Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
Cynical Criticism; Lack Of a Will
I sit Stare Wonder of the things that aren't here but are somewhere else. Beige ceilings feel small when you stare at them all the time. There's a sky beyond the plaster- A dark sky that's full of animals and stars and clouds and noise. Yet here I am With nothing but the white noise of a heater and a faint ringing in my ears. I think of all the time I waste thinking. I could learn a different language. Being able to speak to someone in many different cultures and continents would be interesting. I could practice guitar or piano, learn a new instrument, create new music. I love the way music twists and spills from my fingers like an ethereal waterfall. I could draw and create a masterpiece. Acrylic flows through my veins and keeps my heart pumping. Watercolor dyes my body and my hair, Washing me over in a wave of bright color. Chalk dusts my skin, leaving me with a blurred finish. I could exercise. It would surely boost my poor self image. I constantly look in the mirror and see a hideous shell. Mending relationships and talking would fantastic, A splendid way to make good use of my time. A way to use my present to correct my past and improve the future. Studying would be a good thing to do, as well. The great me knows that my grades sure do need it. I cannot deliver disappointment to my parents. Maybe I could work, earn some more money More money makes mankind merrier; So it appears, money makes man merry. I'd be contributing to my society and be making use of my time. OR... or... I could continue to stare at a blank canvas above me, Smooth as silk, And I can think of all the things I could be doing right now Instead of actually doing them Because America is a nation of dreamers, Not doers.
#america#dream#do#sleep#could#can
Written by
Enigmatic_friend
F/nowhere
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
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