A wilting dream and a damning thought,
my soul is broken and black is the pot.
With a crush that occurs one day at a time,
my life isn’t my own because I’m earning a dime.
Why do I work at a job I can’t stand,
because my possessions own me and my wallet demands.
A disingenuous smile and a polite hello,
I’m faking this dance to make some dough.
Desires for things are too instantly gratified,
while this writer’s pen lays still and petrified.
A stunted potential and an untrodden path.
Why do I shrink from risk? Because I fear the crash.
Bird by bird and step by step,
I keep on writing, but feel out of my depth.
I’ve lived with regret and fought for too long,
so I’m keeping my pen and will write a tome.
Strive to be ourselves is Hunter’s advice to a friend,
I better figure it out, because it up to me in the end.
Circumstance has made my choice to this point,
now I search for my destiny and it’s making my life disjoint.
Poet's Corner 