Unfulfilled

Books make my growth exponential.

A private hoarder's secret shelf.

Self-pity, my friend, silenced my potential.

An addiction to feed myself.

I'm in search of fulfillment.

I've convinced myself to fail.

One sweet distillment from torment.

Adjustments unravel to no avail. 

Cool strong winds howl outside.

I'm in search of something to gain.

Why am I letting myself slide?

Chaos dwells inside my brain.

Uncertainty smothers my nose.

Depriving my air with no remorse.

Envy carved itself into my bone.

A mindless palette cleanser.

Rigorous ambitions wish to abrade.

My city of suppression and madness.

Sleepwalking in the nightmare I have made.

From afar - indefinite blackness.

Composure is irrelevant on the inside.

Lonely am I in this makeshift loophole.

A heron residing on the lakeside.

Here, sorrow can't puncture or cajole.

I'm losing touch with what I know.

I'm wandering in a crowd abandoned.

My reflection is an absent glow.

A new life being taken for granted.

My voice crippled in the forest's depth.

Trapped in the coils of a serpent.

A determined writer filled with breath.

Negativity is not a faithful servant.

Butterflies of imperfection strain.

Giving me the benefit of the doubt.

Though my options seem to wane.

I struggle to find a way out.

Tears dress me somber blue.

Poppies paint my lips crimson.

My ignorance shows I have no clue.

How my future will be written.

Hostility covers my fractured eyes.

To heal my disgrace as a last resort.

An awe-inspiring innocent guise.

Strangers distort and crush my dreams.

Doubtful thoughts are virtuous jades.

A twisted temptation on sight.

Sunlight peers through dark shades.

I reach out to touch the light.

"It's over. It's too late."

"You already missed your chance."

Hunching over from the weight.

I gambled it all and took a stance.

"I want to be happy!" I shout and plead.

Finding solace in pen and paper.

I'm scared of what my future will be.

My growing courage starts to waver.

It's my fault for my self-pity.

I ventured on my own without them.

Destroying the concept of mutuality.

Crawling on a whim.

I'm not sure what I'm in search of.

Pen touches paper, words spilled. 

Praying and reaching up above.

No longer am I unfulfilled.