A Collection of Poems

The Hardest Battle

I dont want to do anything
But let time wash over me.
Motivation evades me.
Feeling left me a week ago for someone better.
Creativity ducks his head whenever I see him.
The paints gather dust.
The books talk to each other since I stopped visiting.
The blue screen traps me in the weakest cage I've ever seen
And yet, I'm still captive.
Netflix is my king.
Spotify my queen.
The ceiling--blank and uninviting--is my one true love.
And yet my mind has the audacity to say it is unhappy.
My spirit grasps for the gumption to breathe fire in my chest.
Deep inside it shouts in the void that once housed my soul.
Spotify blares over the sound and sentences the voice to immediate execution.
Netflix leads my spirit to its doom.
My spirit follows absently, struck dumb by the entertainment used to distract it.
I do not fight it.
It is the friendly voices that reaches down into the void and snaps up my spirit before it loses its head.
"That book was so good!" they say.
"I read your chapter, when does the next one come out?"
"We should do a Bob Ross tutorial."
"I bet you are doing a lot of creative stuff with your time off."
Every sentence is like a stepping stone.
The spirit springs upward.
Netflix is slain.
Spotify is silenced.
My soul is on fire.