Randomly Writing Always (Always Randomly Writing Book 2)

Not

There are so many things I don't want to be
Yet all those things relate to me
Whenever I make the attempt to avoid
It comes back and I get more feelings then annoyed
The worry stack gets higher and higher
If only I could retire
To a place of peace, somewhere in mind
Where fandoms or obsessions aren't lurking behind
My strive for originality
Brings me to emotional poverty
I don't know what they think
And only somewhat care if relationships weren't on the brink
More is added that I don't want or need
Yet I continue my routine or doing the good deed
Inspiration comes harder when it comes to introverts
But once you are one there are no reverts
If things could be like the olden days
When everything had a simple silver gaze
When people weren't judged as harsh
When there was a decent living marsh
My feelings stop me from making it have changed
You're probably thinking I'm deranged
I wish I don't put so much feeling and care
To characters that are already there
I'm thinking that over time creativity
Has to fade eventually
But I would hate society to blend with me
My true colors aren't as easy to see
Opinions change in a flash
Old ideas lost in a clash
A day month or even year away
Could maybe save your creativity today
The things I love are getting lost
My priorities are being tossed
Who to put first and who to deny
Are the decisions for me made by I
But I'm afraid it is then end
For who I am has gone around the bend
I'm no one yet someone how does that work
That's the thing about me I always have a quirk
All my life labeled the exception
Has caused me to have no direction
Want to be like this or that
Not really focusing on where I'm at
I wish I was someone who was free
From the chains I call creativity
But the links and weight is called originality
I want to be like I was before
Never accepted sanity poor
But my imagination was the real spark
When I got older it blew out and I'm lost in thee dark
As much as I do or try
It will fade more as time goes by