Monday, January 24, 2005

of poetry and pain.

I'm not a poet, and really I have no real desire to become one. But none the less, at times like this words overflow to try to express how I am feeling. So yes, there really is no meter or rhyme or structure of any sort. I don't try to follow rules or anything, I just write. So regardless of whether or not it is good poetry, the emotions are true. That is the only thing I intend to capture.

That explained, here is my most recent composition, written on the train.


Trapped inside my own thoughts
A prison I can't escape
Continuously battered by accusations
I can't honestly refute
My failures exposed;
hideous to see
How can I withstand the onslaught
When the accuser is me?

What is this flaw I posses
Anchoring me to inaction?
Always desiring to change;
But frozen in my own inadequacy.

The fault is mine, no one else to blame
I wallow in the bile of overwhelming shame.
The very thing I want to purge
Is exactly what prevents my change.

Oddly enough, I think it might make a good rap, Linkin Park style. Guess all I need is a good chorus and someone to write music for me.

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