Poem things

Creating

2:38 pm

Why does it feel like I am dying,
In the times that I’m not writing,
Drawing,
Building,
Dreaming,
If I’m not Fulfilling,
This tension that sets my intentions.
My broken and beaten body,
Will have to guide me,
My mind,
My life,
My time,
Is not being used right,
As I wander through aimless ponders.
This pain that always grows,
Will have to wait to know,
This grief,
This belief,
This relief,
This is exsisting as an excruciating need,
Because as I fail to bring you new creations,
I find failure in the death of all my damnations.

S.F. _ 05/24/2021 _ 2:53 pm

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s