I had a light in me
It shone so bright that people could see what was inside
I talked about things that I loved religiously
And I clearly knew what I wanted to do

I did not give two *****
About what anyone thought of my work
Until I found myself wanting recognition
I asked people to tell me what was good and what was bad

I saw no wrong in that
Neither did they
Until I realized that I craved for compliments
I craved the praise

It was not for bad intentions
I wanted to get better
I wanted to be heard
I wanted the world to know me

But slowly, I became obsessed
I started relying on people
I relied on them to tell me my work is good
While I no longer believed in myself

The more they told me it was not good enough;
That I was not good enough
My light started to dim
And discouragement was staring me right in the face

I spent so long minding what everyone else thought of me
That I forgot the reason I was doing what I was doing
I listened to what everybody wanted me to do
I pushed aside the things that I wanted to do for myself

Faded stains of spilled bourbon
dot the weathered nightstand’s surface
like stars speckle a clear midnight sky
Each commemorates a prop of courage
swigged to help forge another day

Bras, slips, heels and flats
pepper the soiled carpet
reflections of the many
nightly transgressions now
impediments which fleck her soul

Her frontal lobe
harbors distortions
from her past
forgiven by those who know her
forgotten by others

Rain pelts her window
rat-tat, rat-tats against the panes
compulsively splatters the door
flings open her mind
to let today’s downpour
splash away
any trace of her anguish

the heart an aircraft
capable of flying
but not of floating

Fear prevented me from getting a key that I wanted for a long time
From what somebody said
I'm living like I was dead
What compelled me to listen to their pointless dread?
I imagine myself in that picture with you
But I know my fear has kept me from my dream
And now I'm just another sorry sad noodle in the soup for the sick
Slap me in the face real quick
I'm daydreaming again

I’ve dubbed my wastebasket the wishing well
Well I wish for nothing more than a dime of
creativity to hit me,  ripple across my wrinkles
Knocking some sense in,
sink beneath my pores
So swallow my codswallop wishing well
because this is another petty penny for you.

© Matthew Harlovic