---
it's back again at every night,
the time ticks with careless might.
it's back again at every night,
my mind, on loneliest flight.
and sometimes, I miss the big walls
and the wide halls around me,
but that's difficult to do—
forbidden myself to do.
added pressure,
subtracted passion,
multiplied confidence,
divided attention—
I loved the crowded hall;
I think I gave it all.
"becalm yourself, don't go wholly bonkers.
soon, they'll see through the cranium, give credit to you."
"but why can't they see me?
can they?"
they say it's not all about the numbers;
the burning love for work in you is the value,
but why won't they see me?
will they?
certainly, I did my best,
or. . . hopefully.
hopefully, I gave it all.
but if I skipped my meals,
would it be alright?
but I did
lament and sweat about every mistake
that I did.
---
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Below Bass
Поэзия𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙨 ╰ a c o m p i l a t i o n o f p o e m s ╰ c o m p l e t e d "Some songs are sung; some are below bass."
