One More Wound

To quote the queen of my broken heart
"Call me a coward, too scared to leave"
leave my cocoon, evolve, maybe I never will
the air in here is suffocating, suffocating but this is home
To rewrite her words, I don't say scared
can't say scared, frustration seems more appropriate
I'm frustrated with life
I can't seem to stop my fingers from complaining
blaming society for this failed process
constantly forcing me to step outside my comfort zone
forcing me to put on a show
demand to show you my worth, only for you to pass me over
the last picked for the team
I thought we left this childish rhetoric behind
How is anyone supposed to get ahead
if this appears to be a popularity contest
How can one succeed if the opportunity isn't even granted
Here, another Thursday has come
yet to pass, give it a minute, it'll fly by
and I'm so tempted to sit back, finally let out a cry
maybe belt out a scream for my frustrations not yet released
toss a penny in the air for my thoughts
but it'll come down a nickel for my wounds
only for me to chuck it into the nearest body of water
a dime for my sanity
though what I truly need is a quarter for my soul
to remain apart of me safe and sound
so I don't grow listless, selling my soul to the god of good fortune
My memory grows hazy
even though I studied Latin in my high school days
I remember not who that is so I'd rather not test my luck
my patience has already deteriorated
a downward spiral of perpetual disappointments
I've tried to rectify myself, provide hope in dark corners
pick myself out of this fog with distractions of pure innocence
hoping happy faces and joyful encounters produce a pick-me up
proving my spirits lifted and they are
...until I proceed to try to manually change my own luck
producing only another failure in its wake
another failure for my legacy
Success is built upon the corpse of multiple failures
so the motto now created goes
A little morbid but the sentiment rings true
Success is born from failures
but failing multiple times at the same objective breathes insanity
and I'm so darn tired of being crazy
I've been trying to succeed at the same things
for too many years and it never gets easier
only more difficult as I keep trying and trying
Do or do not, there is no try
the counter argument to this little piece
but I have no more words of complaint left to exude
except these last few lines
God, please help, find a place for me
I'm tired of being helpless, tired of being a failure
Mother Aphrodite, please point me in the right direction
I'm so tired of being aimless, so tired of wandering
Where on earth is there left for me to feel whole
What more can I do where my first reaction to action
after a single setback of a new trial is:
"This will only be disastrous if I continue"
Someone once said that evil can only breathe misery
and the queen of my broken heart sings
with the queen of my broken mind
keeping my soul intact with it's keeper
to stay down but through so much protest I constantly stand
though I feel so empty on the inside
I've asked once, yet received no answer
Dear Brother, where are you when I need you most
How much more must I suffer this
and don't tell me it's when my heart explodes

by Crow thepoet

Comments (1)

Being empty inside is so sad. Frustration provokes thought entirely. A brilliant poem is well penned.10