Tags
art, creativewriting, daily, dreams, givingup, living, poem, poet, poetry, poetryblog, sadstory, writing
Every day, I give up on my dream.
So I tell myself, I shall
Try again tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes. Tomorrow always comes,
And, that’s the problem.
Every day, I give up on my dreams.
My dedication flares; my ambition enlightens; my legs ripen
And, into another world, I depart.
But this path. This path only prolongs
As I can no longer hear the song
Of my Will.
So, by the end of the day, I give up on my dream.
I can no longer spin that wheel.
Then a day passes,
Regret buries itself in me,
I peel myself off of the battlefield,
I refrain from thinking of my shameful past
But regret already buried itself in me!
And after day after day comes and goes,
Regret is reincarnated in me
Because—you see—I try, I try
I really do. But somehow
Every day, I give up on my dreams.
Some say it’s human.
Some say it’s okay.
But, I think that’s the problem.
I found this picture in a dark hole on the interwebs. If it’s yours and you’re hurt that I’m using it, let a poet know.
Sircharlesthepoet 