The joy of having someone watch me write or recite or draw
Their awe struck wonder on their face as they see my works unfold the joy of knowing that awe is because of me,
Has that died as well?
Along with my old soul
Old friend please come back to me
Please please god return to me what I once was
As I fall apart at these devils arms why do you stay quiet?
Why do you not help me show them that I'm capable ?
With out your help I am nothing
Without you I will surely die not of material but of being
I will be emptied
I will continue to read these meaningless stories ones without plot or mean
I will continue to watch these videos and watch my life away as I watch each video the joy of them slowly leaving me
It's now no longer fun to watch these videos
Instead it's become depressing...
To watch people live the lives they've always wanted while I - I'm stuck in a world where my dreams will never be accepted
Where my dreams are seen as impossible
No theirs no way I could ever do that
No
That's impossible
I'm too stupid
Too fat too ugly too arrogant too stubborn
But who truly is the stubborn one when I have already given up on loving myself or following my dreams because if you who still won't let up
Who is the true stubborn one here
Denying me happiness because it have the chance to achieve more than could you have?
Who is the Jealous one here but you
You try so hard to shun me and assure that I never leave
That I never take off by myself
You claim that you are preparing me for the world but the world has change. And none are as cruel as you have been all of my life
This is not life this is hell
And these chores of mind you give me claiming I know nothing but I know far more than you
Tests to prove that I am smarter than you but still you claim I'm too stupid I have no talent
Even though once when you read my works all of you your mouths agape still not believing I had written it
Still still still you don't believe
And still my old soul withers
Still you try to repress it as I try to nurture it back to health
Oh how I miss those days where it was simple to express myself without a yell but it's been over half a decade since those days.. So what is left for me now
I ask you not
I ask God
God a poem to you of questioning
What have you left for me? Letting devils crush my soul you blessed me with
So what is there now?
What do you have for me?
I simply want my understanding again
I want my silent observation I want my muse I want my poetry hands to return
I want to return to one of the few things I seem to be good at anymore these days
Let me back onto that meager throne that I loved and cherished so much
The one that made at least my friends and teachers admire me
Please please return to me the joy to my life please God please God please
