A budding writer's collection

Everything everywhere all at once

It's that time of the year,
The hundred and four days of summer vacation.
No deadlines in sight, no exams to fear
It's finally the all-you-can-do-in-a-day buffet time.

The 24-colour Steadler set and the art book my dad gifted stare at me,
The Parker pen my grandma gave with pride calls my name,
The mini-garden that my mom lovingly cares for is dying, hoping for a drop of water,
The wonderful book with a story for ages is halted, my mind too wild to tame.

The laptop is a drug,
Mind-numbing drug
Every once in a while the series intro plays,
"Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done....."
Done what?
Done wasting another perfect opportunity to hone my skills?
I had hobbies, heck I sing for the heck of it
But what's a talent that isn't polished regularly?
What if it fades away, never to return?

Prisoner of this mental penitentiary
Solitary confinement 'cause I'm killing myself.
And yet I chose to give up,
Giving up is all I've ever done
'Lots of people? Don't go out.
High competition? You won't make it.
Oh, you have to speak out? Better you don't, silly.'

What if I break free?
I want to break free
I crave to break free
I need to break free.