What has this come to?
What used to be hasty taps on a screen
Lacing my thoughts together into
Mediocre poems
Is now avoided glances at my phone;
My link to publishing poetry.
How have I let it come to this?
When I had just gotten a firm hold on
My abilities,
And felt sure of my techniques,
I let it slowly fade away;
So slowly I didn't even realize it was leaving till the
Last moment.
Since then, inspiration and drive
Have not been with me;
I've shied away from beautiful words
Beautifully placed in different Beautiful forms
Like it was holy water and I was a
Demon.
As if seeing these perfect poems
Would discourage me even more
And make me try to write again
And fail
Disapointing myself and my future.
I'm in a constant loop of writer's block
And I'm growing increasingly tired
Of it.
I feel like I'm living my life
In a constant state of
Repetition.
Where wasting away on my ass,
Eyes glued to tv and cell phone screens
Has become the usual.
This isn't living,
And it's not what someone like me
Was meant to do.
Constant snapshots of a life I only
Dream about living
Is constantly crossing my vision,
Blurring my reality into a supposed
Hell
When really it isn't.
I'm creating my own hell,
Digging my own grave,
By letting the life I crave pass me
By.
I need to be aware of my thoughts
That are buried deep
And arrange them together as
Sentences
That flow the way I like.
I need to get up
And stop living through
Fictional people
In fictional worlds,
And start creating my own world
To my own liking.
P.S. I just realized my title sounds like something Fall Out Boy would write lol
P.S.S. I will be posting much more frequently now :)
