Sunday, May 31, 2009

I am

I am
On the verge of a breakdown
Smoke out the ears, fire out the mouth, hot like fire
Self reflection leads me in a misdirection
Of where I'm supposed to be
I am
Lost
Because the older I get the less certain I am
Of where I am
This is not the way I planned it
Preparation got me ready for
Nothing
I am
stuck
Immobile
Trying to decipher the puzzle
Not liking the picture
Dissatisfaction gripping me tight around the throat
I am
Unable to breathe
Left gasping for air
Still struggling to survive
And I am
Done

1 comment:

Vince said...

This is a cool poem. I think you have a condition called "perfectionism." i have it, too. don't be so hard on yourself.