Anthology of Me and other various poems

a digression of sorts

when i'm by myself and on my own
i consider myself a poet
but when i'm around others
i'm a bother
a nuisance
and a waste of space
of time
of money and of love

i'm afraid of the dark
but instead of turning on a light
i hide in my fright
and fight
the faint glow of those in letting in
i'm giving in
giving

up

i'm not someone who gets up
when i fall
i wonder if it was worth the try at all
i wonder if the trial was worth the risk
and instead of trying again
i give in

i'd like to say i look on the bright side
but i'm more of a night owl anyways

and while it's not quite right
i try anyways and keep up the good fight
by trying to get used to the light
but i can't help the flight
of fear of failure
and the fleeing due to my anxieties

i consider myself a rambler
who takes a chance with words
that always lead to dead ends
and useless digressions
yet i digress

oh what a mess
i've made of these lines of words
and while i'd like to address what's most necessary in the current time
i believe that it's my time
to go

so

i'm
so low
and blue and sad and glum
"would you like a plum?"
hah, the jokes on me
for the frivolity of my existence is far too great to make my words worth much more than a grain of sand on a beach

but again, i digress

i'd like to consider myself a comedian, a jokester of a kind
but with these monsters in my mind
it's hard to make a joke that flies
when all i say falls flat
and all i do falls short

just as i'd like to be a bit taller
i'd like my goals a bit loftier
but i know not to reach too high
because i might not reach
and i can't climb on counters anymore