There have been many years of flailing,
my life lacking in solid intent,
and I wonder, where am I going,
am I even progressing?
Hoping for something to shoulder all the weight from my listless life.
It’s as though I am simply floating in a mass of water,
stagnant appears to be the tune,
the water dank,
like my lacking of good fortune.
I used to be so focused,
attentive and driven,
full of concentration,
dedication to my art,
Now, I am simply waiting to expire,
growing older by the second,
each tick a stretch from the previous,
to the finality of my last.
I wish for something solid to aim for,
something to hope for,
something which I can reach for,
to impress upon myself,
to enliven and enrich my soul.
But my dreams seem so far off
and unlikely to come to pass,
I can dream and dream
but surely someone who has become like me
will only finish last.
And the truth of the matter is
I am here breathing,
stealing away others’ rightful air
with my pathetic breaths which amount to little,
I am nothing anymore,
not what I used to be,
burned away are my successes.
And my desire for excesses,
seem an apparent method of
ridiculous and ostentatious showing of invisible wealth.
while I like to sparkle and I love to shine,
the gems upon my fingers
and around my neck
are really the only things about me lately worth drawing the eye.
I realise my tone is morose,
that I am lacking in lustre within my words,
although lifeless and downtrodden feels commonplace
from someone who used to outrageously feel.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay
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