The Weight Of This Pen

You say to separate these words from me,
And that I need to see,
That I am more than what I portray to be.
You claim that I am being dramatic,
And that I should choose a different tactic,
Besides focusing on the things I lack.
You tell me that I am more than my writing,
And that I am worth fighting,
For against all of this doubting.
You say that some separation would be good,
From the things that I know I should,
Be doing if I want to be understood.
You claim that my words hold too much weight,
And that I should lessen this debate,
Over with who I can actually relate.
Since I so obviously have you,
No matter what I might go through,
You have proven your love will always ensue.
So I am not quite sure what makes me seperate,
From the path that was once so straight,
And promised me a stable state.
I do not know what makes me want to show,
That there are lengths I am willing to go,
Through suffering and fatigue in order to grow.
I cannot fathom what I could consider to be,
More important than allowing myself to be me,
And to finally open my eyes and see.
That I am more than capable,
And I am finally stable,
In my own kind of fable.
My inability to relate to this life,
Is based in an overwhelming belief in strife,
One which I will have to learn to deny.
In order to applaud myself for what I’ve been through,
And know that I am being true,
To the actions and state of mind I want to pursue.
So maybe you are right,
And maybe I should lessen this fight,
So that maybe I will see less fright.
When I approach that which matters to me the most,
And I learn how to compose,
The thoughts that usually have me in throes.
Too overwhelmed to comprehend,
The feeling of my hand and this pen,
And the words that I resort to using in the end.

I Want To Say Good Riddance

I know what I want to do but that is easier to say than it is to pursue.
I think I know what I want to say but it seems that my voice is lost the further I progress into my day.
I suppose I know what to do but I can’t help but think of you,
And the way that you seem to forget the promises you never kept,
The chance you had to redeem yourself and the way you insist there are no hard feelings being felt,
But the point that you are missing is that your dependence is what is dissing,
My ability to shake you and that lies that always ensue.
I know that I want to move on and sing the tune of different song,
One in which I am free from you and the things that you do.
I think that you are what holds me back and why I feel the need to attack,
Everything that does not serve me because your presence is beginning to blind everything I see,
I can’t seem to gain any control over the way you whine and deplore,
All that I am attempting to do and all of the help that I’ve extended to you.
Leaving me to question my purpose and how much longer I can endure this,
While you seem to have no clue that your actions are skewed,
And I have no respect left for this intellectual theft.
While I cannot blame you completely since I allowed this to be,
And I cannot hate you for taking the hand I extended out of the blue,
But I can resent this state that you seem to constantly contemplate,
Of not knowing what to do while I’ve been setting the perfect example for you,
And taking no action while complaining about life’s lack of reaction,
To your passive approach to the things that should matter the most.
I would love to say that I am done with you and I have nothing left to give you,
That I can no longer help since I have so many hard feelings held,
And that I release you from my support so that I can finally abort,
This pointless mission of recognition for things that you are clearly missing.
I want to say that it is true that I have finally given up on you,
But there is something that will not allow that declaration to be proud,
Since I feel like I am abandoning a part of me that I wanted to see,
Where I was patient and supportive rather than bored and pissed,
But you were not the person to receive all of this and that was the point I first missed.
I should have been giving myself that support and I should have seen you as more,
Of a motivation to rise above everything that does not return my love.

How Can You Be So Resolute While Denying The Truth?

You say that you want to circumvent convention,
And that you want to lessen your dependence,
On that which places pressure on tradition,
And puts women in the kitchen.
You say that you want to break these ties,
And that you are tired of the lies,
With which you once sympathized,
Dictating how you should be alive.
You say that you want to break the trend,
And you are looking to begin again,
Chasing a different kind of end,
Where you can release this tension.

But the words that you say,
And what you are doing today,
Can only begin to explain,
Why I write this with such disdain.
Since you speak of being free,
From the same confines that restrain me,
And yet I do not believe,
That we see the same reality.
I see the responsibility of living,
And the possibility of forgiving,
Myself for insisting on reliving,
All of my misgivings.
I see that I stemmed my own progress,
And there were moments when I transgressed,
Into an even deeper loneliness,
Than you could ever guess.
Since you speak of divides,
And the struggle to truly be alive,
But you have someone by your side,
Supporting where you have currently arrived.

You say that you are doing this for you,
And that you want to stay true,
To a person that you never knew,
But what are you truly willing to do?
Since you rely on the support,
Of an understanding cohort,
Providing you with more,
Than you have ever had to work for.
Some might say that I am jealous,
And that my sense of indepence is overzealous,
But they are missing what I truly relish —
The pride of saying that I accomplished all of this.

So when you say that you can’t handle the pain,
And that you can’t live another day,
With the pressure of other’s constraints,
I will ask you to explain.
Since I have handled the same pressure,
And we could have faced this together,
But you had the support of another,
And I was left with my own lecture.
Where I say that I do not succumb,
To the pressure of anyone,
And I have learned that as a party of one,
I know what I need to get done.
I chose the life I live,
And I always saw a reason to give,
Convention a fighting chance to be corroborative,
But know that I am prone to be combative.

I Want To Give Myself A Break

I want to finally be free and know that what was handed to me,
Is exactly what I need.
I want to boast about many reasons to toast,
Because I have worked harder than most.
I want to applaud the things I do and what I have been through,
Since there is so much more I am looking to do.
But there is something that prevents me from actually seeing,
That which I have accomplished being.
I want to put a stop to all of these negative thoughts,
And be thankful for what I’ve got.
Because I am tired of complaining and I am sick of the pain,
That is driving my thoughts insane.
I want to focus in on the truth and my decision to be resolute,
That I hold something of value.
I want to embrace my success and let go of the rest,
When I was not me at my best.
Because I seem to focus on the negative and sink deeper in this plague,
That leaves my purpose in life painfully vague.
I wish I knew what was in store for me and that I could plainly see,
That I am growing into the person I was always meant to be.
But I struggle to find my purpose and I linger on what I missed,
When I once operated blindly and amiss.
I want to know that I am beginning to show,
Places in which I have began to grow.
But I doubt that this progress holds any clout,
When compared to what I continuously worry about.
I want to be the best version of me,
And I wish that was all I could see.
Because I am tired of being dissatisfied and always willing to abide,
By the wills of others who stand by my side.
I want to love this person and see me as the version,
Of an individual who is deserving.
I wish that I had more to convey than complaints every day,
And I could change that which I constantly say.
Because I am more than this and I deserve some bliss,
When I look back and reminisce.
I went through so much and I have proved as such,
That I can carry on without a crutch.
I want to prove that I more than just used,
And I can rise above my own abuse.
Because I was always meant to be free and to truly believe,
In the person that I be.

Don’t Take It From Me

You don’t want to be me.
And you don’t want to handle the things I see.
You shouldn’t seek this life I breathe,
Because it is one that I would rather deny than be.
You don’t want to believe in me,
And you shouldn’t see any truth in me,
Since I am the reason that I bleed.
You should never envy me,
Since you cannot see,
That which tortures me.
You cannot comprehend that which blinds me,
And the responsibility that binds me,
To step up to more than I ever wanted to see.
You don’t want to grow this seed,
That is planted within me,
To have so much greed,
When it comes to being set free.
And you should never believe,
That I know what I seek,
Since truth is nothing I speak.
You cannot yet see,
That I am even less than you once believed,
Since I have allowed so much to torture me.
I cannot sustain me,
And I cannot be,
Everything that I once believed,
Since none of that is the truth I see.
You cannot believe me,
And you should not copy me,
Since I have no idea how to set you free.
I know what I have come to be,
And I know what I want to see,
But I recognize that I am far from where I want to be.
I only know happiness momentarily,
And I am left with this plea,
That you should not see value in me.
Because it took so long to see,
That which drops me to my knees,
And makes me bound to defeat.
You should recognize my habit to flee,
From everything that I once wanted to be,
Since that truth is something I struggle to see.
So believe me,
When I say that I am nothing you want to be,
Because I possess nothing that will bring you glee.
And I think that you would agree,
That I have nothing left to redeem,
Because there was never any good in me,
And I never wanted to believe,
That I could ever find that which sets me free.
So listen carefully to this plea,
And seek the truth that you want to see,
Because I am struggling to find one in which I can believe.

There Is A Gap Of Comprehension

The privilege is real with this group,
And it is leaving me even more aloof,
Than when I first discovered this truth.
The advantage is taken for granted with them,
And it is plain that they never had to begin again,
Since all that they needed was handed to them.
The separation is clear,
And it is making me fear,
That they do not understand what I revere.
I value the significance of a paycheck,
And the responsibility of paying rent,
I strive to do what I can to survive,
And never leave my family feeling deprived,
Of neither love nor food,
And the sound of a hopeful tune,
Since I know there is so much more I can do,
To improve what I am going through.
Because I was not handed a status of wealth,
And I can’t help that there is jealousy being felt,
When I have more to worry about than they do,
And they never had to consider what they might do,
If the world turned upside down,
And they lost their privileged crowns,
Leaving them to suffer with the masses,
And no longer be protected by their class.
Since there are things they have forgotten to work for,
And common tasks that they are allowed to ignore.
They cook food as a hobby,
And have never had to wait in an overcrowded lobby,
Praying that they can be dependent on the government,
To help them survive another moment.
They have never felt the pressure of being dependent,
On things that they have repented,
In order to pay for simple expenses.
The difference is clear with the things that they say,
And the way they go about their day,
Or the understanding that they fail to convey.
While I express the experience of a struggle,
And they have no valid rebuttal,
Proving that they do not comprehend the weight of a shovel,
Held in the hands of another,
Digging the grave in which they will eventually slumber.
Since that work is beneath them,
And they never considered it being within,
The realm of reality they operate in.
Because for them there is no end in sight,
And they have not experienced the lashes of this fight,
To survive just one more day with the sight,
That things will get better if I withstand this blight,
And continue to grow through it despite,
Being at odds that are fately against me,
And being filled with so much greed,
For the things that they hold so easily,
And yet I will never see.

I Am Obsessed With Success

The thoughts keep seeping in and I can’t seem to stop them from winning.
The pressure is self applied and I know I have always tried,
But there is something that incessantly nags me from the inside.
I cannot seem to gather the thoughts that I have scattered,
And they plague me without being appeased,
Until I am the only person who can set me free.
Since I have worked too much and doubted as such,
Wondering if success will ever be something I touch,
Since the pressure of doing so is becoming too much.
So I sink ever deeper in the smoke of this reefer,
Attempting to silence the thoughts of which I am pious —
Did I remember to lock that door?
And is that report something I can continue to ignore?
What can I do to sell even more?
And what is something my employees are willing to work for?
How can I improve my numbers?
And how can I be less encumbered?
Why do these thoughts seem to be out number thoughts that provide a restful slumber?
What can I do to see all of this through?
And what more am I willing to do?
How far will I allow work to take me?
And what more am I willing to allow it to take from me?
Is a life of monetized success one that will set me free?
Or is this job just an end to a means?
I am still searching for the means that moves me.
And I wonder if work is the beginning or the end,
To what I am supposed to be doing instead?
Since I do not feel the passion that I expected,
And I am left feeling even less directed,
When I have a requirement from nine to five,
And most of my time is spent feeling less than alive,
What more can I do to survive?

Ten Years Ago Today

Today was supposed to be different.
I was going to wake up to sadness and wallow in my loss,
I had planned on masking my depression,
And allowing my disconnect from others to press in.
I thought today would hold more significance,
And I planned on being lost in my own reminisses.
But somehow I am fine,
And paying more attention to the time,
Than what happened on this day ten years ago,
And the struggle with it that I usually show.
I feel no pressure to drink myself to death,
And I almost think that I have no impulse left,
That could satisfy what is being repressed.
Leaving me with my best guess,
That I might finally be healing from this mess,
Which was presented to me without a choice,
And taught me to only further suppress my voice.
But last week I began to speak,
And that holds more power than I think,
Because today didn’t seem so bleak.
But that feels like an injustice,
Since you held so much substance,
In the life I once had,
When you played the role of Dad.
And now I don’t know what to do to celebrate you,
While coming to terms with everything that I have been through.
Since this anniversary is not meant to be about me,
But until now that is all I have ever been able to see,
Since this was too much for me to handle,
Leaving me prone to ramble,
Through today without having much to say,
That would take some of my pain away.
But this year my sorrow came early,
And I lead up to today hurting,
Leaving me feeling undeserving,
To serve your memory on this very day,
When you had to unexpectedly go away,
Since I do not possess the same nature you held,
And the way you could smile through any hard feelings felt,
Instead I learned to hold grudges,
And the one I held against you was repugnant,
Since I loved you so much that your loss destroyed me,
And I was once so lost that I deplored me.
But today seems to hold a different tone,
And I might be ready to finally move on,
To serve you in a memory of love,
And feel your presence watching from above.

I Need To Be Done With You

I need to move on while I still have some dignity left,
Because you have made it clear that there is nothing I possess,
That could make you desperate for me in the same I am for you,
And there is nothing more I can do to change that truth.
I need to release this hold you have on me,
So that I can finally be set free,
From this complex in which you have encouraged me to believe —
That I am too skinny for you to admire,
Or that I am too dense for you to desire,
That I am too boring to keep your attention,
Or that I am too inexperienced in bed to be worth recollection.
And it might not be something you intended to do,
But it is what I have seen to be the truth —
Because you do not reach out unprompted,
And I have began to doubt that in your mind I’m even thought of,
Since you can go months without seeing me,
And the torture of that separation is plainly missing.
So now I have a grudge or two to hold against you,
And all the thoughtless things that you do —
Speaking lies about your intentions,
And allowing me to take risks without repression,
Pretending to share your feelings,
Only in an effort to have me be more revealing,
With my clothes and not my emotions,
Since you were never really interested in the words I have spoken,
Because I once shared with you my truth,
That this was nothing to take lightly in youth,
Since I once shared my body without concern,
And emotional connection is something I’ve had to learn,
So when I took a chance on you I wanted this to be love that was true,
Not just another conquest for you,
Because I fell hard and fast,
And you seemed to allow that to pass,
Without recognition or concern,
And I had to be the one to learn,
That you are just not as in to me as I am in to you,
And I have to move on before I regret something I might do.

Today Is Within My Half-Assed Grasp

Is this another day that will simply pass?
Or is control of it within my grasp?
Is today another day that I will miss?
Or one that I can embrace to reminisce?
Can I actually pay attention to what is happening?
Or will I continue just reacting?
What will make today something to hold onto?
And what can I do to see it through?

I wake up to this pressure and I sleep with the conjecture,
That today is a day I will be able to capture.
I want this to work and I build up my worth,
So that I can believe that success is something I deserve.
But the truth is that I fail to try and I am the first to deny,
Any chance of making today mine.
Since I start with a smoke and I end with a toke,
Making any effort I put in a joke.
Because I once functioned without the high and did more than just get by,
But now I refuse to even try.
I almost like the disadvantage and my refusal to be candid,
Since it sets me up for standards lower than I first planted,
When I was just a hopeful youth and no one had yet explained the truth,
That this life requires repetitive proof.
And I must wake up and embrace today before it is wasted away,
Or I will lose my opportunity to say what I needed to say.
And I won’t get it back since life provides no understanding slack,
For the motivation that I so obviously lack.

Will I think about the results of today?
Or will I continue to waste my time away?
Can I find the strength to actually care?
Or will I be continue to claim that this life is unfair?
Will I succumb to admitting my truth?
Or will I continue wasting away my youth?
Can I accomplish something even in a small way?
Or will I inevitably negate that hopeful claim?

I can control what I do today.
But do I care enough to follow through on what I say?