Quick, I jot this written medication
to claim my plot and reach mind’s elation.
Relentless, curiosity finds me,
winds me, it’s luminosity blinds me.
As words rain down upon this crisp white page,
Any temper it does seem to assuage.
The lush ink feathers ever so slightly,
The cold steel nib clever and frightening.
I feel it all tightening around me
Doubts abound, each a distinct pedigree.
So burdened by this great anxiety
Lie to me, say it’ll all be okay.
As I continue to scrawl, it all falls,
To reveal an insurmountable wall.
All so complicated, contemplated
Perpetually flows unabated.
For too long I had turned and I had tossed,
Unknowingly a victim of sunk cost.
Drunk with the wine of lost conversations
I revolutionize all foundations,
relations, any that I can recall.
In midst of my fervor I still stutter,
sputter, and slip from the height of graces.
Unfazed, my found self simply embraces
The struggle, and displaces it in kind,
Proving that I am the stronger of mind.
In the end, victories are of the self,
The slow cultivation of one’s own wealth.
Self-made, with whatever there is to show,
When it comes down to it, at least you’ll know.
Relentless, curiosity finds me,
winds me, it’s luminosity blinds me.
As words rain down upon this crisp white page,
Any temper it does seem to assuage.
The lush ink feathers ever so slightly,
The cold steel nib clever and frightening.
I feel it all tightening around me
Doubts abound, each a distinct pedigree.
So burdened by this great anxiety
Lie to me, say it’ll all be okay.
As I continue to scrawl, it all falls,
To reveal an insurmountable wall.
All so complicated, contemplated
Perpetually flows unabated.
For too long I had turned and I had tossed,
Unknowingly a victim of sunk cost.
Drunk with the wine of lost conversations
I revolutionize all foundations,
relations, any that I can recall.
In midst of my fervor I still stutter,
sputter, and slip from the height of graces.
Unfazed, my found self simply embraces
The struggle, and displaces it in kind,
Proving that I am the stronger of mind.
In the end, victories are of the self,
The slow cultivation of one’s own wealth.
Self-made, with whatever there is to show,
When it comes down to it, at least you’ll know.
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