Im now 20,

and sympathize those in the same age category as me

----

The painful

insanely, mechanical yet dizzying push to be

--something --
titles, names, high status nothingness
Yet, we search

every corner we turn to
say
Is this it?
Security, Purpose, a treasure trove of possibility
find me - you - me - you see?
Did you land here on my lap, perfectly?

Today this is it
But, then Tomorrow blows up
Like an a unpredictable field mine.
In my precious heart, that thought it knew
it was right, right?

And this pressure crushes me
And somedays I feel so lonely

Yet, this insane pressure
To be this mold
And hold this space to be a list
And the uncertainty
Unfamiliarity
It literally crushes me
In it's silence, yet ferocious noise that pounds in my skull

The wild voice,
It drives us insane,
And drains me with this internal pain

That 'I will never be enough'

That....

--money, not enough
-- my schooling, not enough
-- my experience, not enough
-- my materials, not enough
-- my social circle, not enough


And this pain of enoughness is stuffing me with fear
So I try to turn every direction
Scattered, and seared with this
Deep insanity to grab it all

Yet, we sometimes fill ourselves with doubt
that pushes us to a dangerous, unforgiving - edgde

Yet, after being broken down by the day
vulnerablity blossoms
Honestly, I say - where do I go?

Now?

I search, plea, beg..
I grip tightly,
asking - pleading for guidance

I’ve hit a barrier
Between good a mediocre
A matter of writing well
And being able to produce

I know it should come from the heart
But call it heart burn
Because I’m burnt out
And can’t say the words I need

You’re rubber I’m night
My words bounce and hide away in the dark
Coming from the shadows
Snaring me like a hunter

And while I’m pulled as a bird from the sky
My doubts flood me
And I just have to ask myself
Is this the life I wanted?

Fireworks and I have a lot in common
They burn out
And fizzle
And spark
And Scream
While people watch on with amusement
Without worry
The thing about fireworks and me?
They're pretty until you get too
Close
-I've burnt the fingers of too many people

I thought you were the fire that could warm my frozen heart
I took care of you
And tended to you
To keep you going as long as you could
I thought you would keep me warm
and take care of me too

Instead I ended up getting burnt
Charring my fingers on your carelessness
Singing my hair on your obliviousness
And In A Way, my own
Because anyone knows that when you play with fire
You're asking
to get burnt
-a former pyromaniac

I've been called a pyro
From the fires that glow in my path
But they don't know that the fire
Keeps my body from freezing over
And when the tendrils of smoke find their way to my nose
I hope it winds its way into my body
To warm the ice surrounding my heart
-depression can't win