Messy hair and stained white shirts.
The laughing stock of this tiny stage.
Stare at your feet,
Velcro sketchers covered in sand.

My surroundings
reflect
all of the
craziness
in my
mind.

Where do I start?

Where do I go?

How do I keep
my demons
under control?

Perhaps,
I should
put a noose
around their neck
and
pull tighter
every time
one takes over.

Because I want to thrive!

Who wants to be
lost in
the cage
that holds them?

I want to
articulate words together
in a
beautiful and eloquent way.

I want the world
to listen
as my thoughts
dance on paper.

Freedom
isn’t this
daily grind
society
forces us into…

But, alas!
We must work.  

We have to do something.

Don’t we?

We have
bills to pay
and
children to feed.

Should we
give up hope?

This is unfair!
And, yes.
I’m mad.
I am so…
Ugh!

I can’t find the words.  
Isn’t that typical?

A poet so lost
in thought
that their poetry
resembles a bowl of
alphabet soup
that
spilled onto the page…

Word *****---  that’s what it is.

But, what about this daily grind?

Society slaves
away
at corporations.

Is that my fate?  
Is that what I have to do?
  
Because God…
and
I only
use that as
an expression…

This is not what I want!
  
Do I really have to
slave away
at the bottom
of the pit
before pursuing
all of my dreams?
  
Do I need to
work jobs
that will only
leave me more
lifeless?
  
Oh, and by way…

Why would anyone
want me to
work for them?
  
I complain a lot,
but for good reasons.  

The world
is
cruel
and
unfair.

As children,
we are
full of life,
curiosity,
and joy.
  
Somewhere
down the line,
that changes.

We laugh.

We cry.

We sing.

We shout.  

We hurt.

We play.

We work.

and

We forget about ourselves.

We
become cynical
because of
our life experiences.

We’re told
we are special,
but then
we find others
who are more special.

How
are we
supposed to feel?  

How
could anyone be
happy with this?

And,
I feel like
I don’t make sense...
but
Dear Reader,
please forgive me.

I’m
a ball of
cotton candy
mixed with
a load of sprinkles
on top of a
cake.

I
know
that’s random.

You
don’t have to
tell me.
  
It’s the
thoughts
that came to
mind.

I’m silly.  

I’m serious.

I’m a curious child.  

I’m a cynical adult.

I’m full of empathy,
but
I’m also a face of misanthropy.

I’m a dreamer…
but I get
pulled down
to
Earth
too often.
  
I am light.  

I am dark.  

I am  
one part
“Yes, I can!”

and

one part
“No, I can’t…”

I am
the voice
that
screams within.
  
I am
The Contradicting Soul

and

I
will not fit
into
society’s mold.