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"unproductivity" poems
Unproductivity. What a silly word. What a massive waste of time. While the minutes and even hours race by, And apparently it’s already July. The future is coming. I realize that statement is true yes, but That doesn’t mean I’m any less scared That doesn’t mean I’m any less unprepared. Time moves fast, most of the time that is. However there are those moments Where I’m struggling to stay afloat Resisting the lull of falling behind Persisting despite my hatred of My somehow ever-racing mind I don’t know what to do to slow down I just need more time, time to breathe. Time to relax, time to let life pass me by Maybe just a for a day, where I could get away. I could leave this town, and avoid My suffocating obligations And my equally frustrating Responsibilities and duties . And worst of all, The winner of them all by far, The anxiety that holds my brain hostage. Telling me that there’s no time Yelling at me to focus, to get things done. But all I can do is sit. There, quietly. And stare at the wall directly in front of me For what seems like hours but they’re actually days. And everything seems to be slipping by. Minding it’s own business, and I wish it wouldn’t. I feel as if I’ve lost my tie, my lock to my identity. The person I thought I used to be Dedicated and focused. Is now frustrated and unmotivated What am I supposed to do? I suppose, I’ll continue to sit here. Whether it be at my desk, on my bed. Racking the ideas and words through my head. Over and over attempting to Wait out this unproductivity. And praying that inspiration Won’t take much longer Because I’m afraid I’ve lost what I used to have.
0
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
Unproductivity.
Unproductivity. What a silly word. What a massive waste of time. While the minutes and even hours race by, And apparently it’s already July. The future is coming. I realize that statement is true yes, but That doesn’t mean I’m any less scared That doesn’t mean I’m any less unprepared. Time moves fast, most of the time that is. However there are those moments Where I’m struggling to stay afloat Resisting the lull of falling behind Persisting despite my hatred of My somehow ever-racing mind I don’t know what to do to slow down I just need more time, time to breathe. Time to relax, time to let life pass me by Maybe just a for a day, where I could get away. I could leave this town, and avoid My suffocating obligations And my equally frustrating Responsibilities and duties . And worst of all, The winner of them all by far, The anxiety that holds my brain hostage. Telling me that there’s no time Yelling at me to focus, to get things done. But all I can do is sit. There, quietly. And stare at the wall directly in front of me For what seems like hours but they’re actually days. And everything seems to be slipping by. Minding it’s own business, and I wish it wouldn’t. I feel as if I’ve lost my tie, my lock to my identity. The person I thought I used to be Dedicated and focused. Is now frustrated and unmotivated What am I supposed to do? I suppose, I’ll continue to sit here. Whether it be at my desk, on my bed. Racking the ideas and words through my head. Over and over attempting to Wait out this unproductivity. And praying that inspiration Won’t take much longer Because I’m afraid I’ve lost what I used to have.
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It is so easy to change our lives. We do not realise just how powerful we are. A thought could revolutionalise the world for the better. If we could just stand up and speak, make up our mind to be the best we possibly can. o stop watching those videos on Youtube, to stop scrolling through Facebook with a blank mind and then snapping out of it at the end of the day only to find that your life reeks of dysfunction and unproductivity and that you wasted an amazing day that you could have spent changing your life. The butterfly effect. Your decisions today affect your life tomorrow. Have the choices you made today given you a better tomorrow?
0
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
Power
Tonight feels like salt, but not enough wounds to pour it in. There is no relief, no distraction from the feeling taking my lungs' motion away. I can't breathe, I can't see, stasis and the puddles that accompany it. The crushing grip of unproductivity shakes my soul as a giant would a doll. Wasted, wasted, another day wasted. When will the spaces on the clock be worthwhile? I am perpetually shoving myself off of an edge into a pit of something menacing, I can't seem to give up on tearing down my own walls. Two lines, or three, streaking down my cheeks - a signification of my misery for everyone to see. Embarrassment, now comes he - with his lance, sticking it straight through me. Stop looking, everyone stop looking, I can't do this anymore. When tears do not reveal my weakness, my expression does. I am quiet, disengaging from what I enjoy - and they notice, how dare they notice, I  don't want them to notice! Curiosity and compassion are two very different things, and the former is in overabundance. I feel like a raincloud must, though I don't attain a pleasure of release - my eyes spill out my insignificance, therefore it is endless.
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
January 13, 2015 - Salt
I wish to cry, but I must be numb, to these emotions, because they will not aid me, when they come, to take me away, for my trials, and charge me, with unproductivity.
0
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 1:44 AM UTC
"free"