Poem: Out of time for self

It’s hopeless to compete against you.
I’ve lost my nitch.
Where I belong.

I’m doing well, I’m busy, I’m succeeding.

But where’s the “me” in this?
Do I make time to write? Or photograph (yes)? Draw? Paint? Read? Play music for fun?

It’s been years and the walls are white.
My smile has faded.
Or is fake.

My friends are far away and non-existant.
My folks and my pets live in a bubble too far for me to reach
And surrounded by a field of thorns too thick to breach.

I’m low on energy. I’m low on tolerance. I’m low on income and high on output.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s