Tuesday, September 4, 2012

The blues and purples of dilemma swirl through my mind,

The reds and oranges of melancholy waft through my thoughts

The numbers, of days gone to waste, days gone by, linger in my memory,

The anger, oh the anger, of being in a valley,

Yes, I am in a valley, a valley where there isn't a square inch to grow,

To bloom, to mature, and I am in the valley of no mistakes,

Correct! The flawless valley; it is a shadow so perfect, that I know I cannot fill,

I can't stand in this outline, because I know I can't replace what I have never had,

What do I not possess, you ask? Good grades? Friends?

I say that what I do not possess, is potential.

Potential to do what I please, potential to fill the shoes that are a size too big

It is as if everything is whizzing by me, and I am struggling to keep up,

I fear that I am on a lower pedestal than everyone else,

I am an invisible figure, though no one can see through to me,

No one understands, none give me something to hope for, something to remember

I feel that I am drifting away, inch-by-inch,

The memories of me, that were once vivid and visible,

Are now blurred and edgy, and are straying away from this world,

And even I can't keep up with their speed

Inspiration: I wrote this for a novel in which a character is an amaturely estranged poet. He writes this poem in the novel....

No comments:

Post a Comment