What They Want Me To Be


What They Want Me To Be

Implied but never asked.

This restlessness can not last.

With ears to listen and hearts to take,

Everything within their will to break.

The truth is what they say they want,

They act as if their lies are nonchalant.

I hold this honesty one may seek,

Within me I allow this voice to speak.

Fiercely truthful to an extent.

Saying what I can to not repent.

Patience takes time when none is to spare

The task is one that most can’t bare.

Holding my temper when I want to fight.

Biting my tongue when I know I’m right.

Resisting the urge to cut everything off.

Knowing what I have is not enough.

Everyone feels like they can relate.

Everything they take,

It’s all in my sake.

They put up a front and try to debate.

Insisting on perfectionism,

Imprisoned behind the castle of the vision.

Distraught entrapped by pessimism,

Slowly becoming the product of their decision.

Who are they to ask of such.

Things they want are just too much.

Always looking for a hole,

Their must be one in every soul.

Imploring justice they defeat my art,

Before I can finish, just after I start.

Who I am is who they want me to be,

A perfectionist driven demeanor,

Defined by criticism to always be better.

Theres just one problem they forgot to see.

Today I awake within no haven,

Asking for understanding, for I am human.

Life takes me in so many directions. The brunt of the force lays heavy on my shoulders at time. When I’ve got too much weighing me down and I can’t seem to get my mind off what is bothering me I have a routine. I go to my journal and type out my thoughts. Normally a few paragraphs of rants or concerns helps. Usually I am good to go and carry on to the next activity. A strange thing came out one night as I was typing out my woes, poetry. I forgot I had it in me for I haven’t written a line of poetry since high school, over 8 years ago. I find poetry to be a raw force of what my intentions are. Of course it is more thought out to get the right flow yet somehow it makes me feel more vulnerable than any other type of writing. So instead of hiding my words I decided to show it and maybe next time I decide to be a poet I won’t feel so self-conscious. Enjoy the amateur poetry of a hard-worker who gets beaten down sometimes.


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