feeling a bit low
trying to pull back up
thinking I'm too good
to be held back
taking my beatings
licking my wounds
drawing from my heart
seeing the world in new light
power radiates
burning from within
knowing I'm better
waiting for someone to see
that's why I'm me
in this empty hole again
---
Did I expect to write poetry tonight? No. Why should I? I haven't written anything like that in a very long time, nor do I typically feel prosey. As you can tell, the words I write in poetry are just fractioned sentences, feelings poured on the page. I don't consider myself good at writing poetry because I don't follow any of the rules.
The reason for this entry is because while I know I'm busting my ass at work and trying to sustain life as I know it, I am finding myself more and more listless. I want something else, and I'm starting to crave it, in a desperate frame, if you will. While I'm not begging or anything like that, I can feel the heart wander and demand, while I still sit back, holding myself back from going out and getting what I want.
I've started saying what I want and how I feel, but I am still not all there with that way of living. I am moving into that role, being me, liking me and selling me for top dollar. I'd love to just dive in, but my approach is babysteps, here...even though I know it CAN'T be.
oh well, what'cha gonna do?
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