Guess I tried too hard this time.
Thought I had it all worked out--
Was gonna be great, gonna be praised,
But what do I know about.
I guess this is withdrawal--
I'm worse off, at any rate.
Did something to make me feel better,
Yet it seems a thing I hate.
I'm blocked, locked.
Caught up in my head, dead.
Spewing out words, records,
And I see nothing ahead.
I'm stressed, depressed.
My skull's a void, destroyed.
Coughing up lines, rhymes,
And I see nothing ahead.
Always trying to make plans
To get me out of this hole.
But then that darkness returns,
And I forget about my goal.
How am I supposed to explain it?
Besides listening to others' lyrics.
Wishing I'd been first to write those words--
An artist's jealousy, a sufferer's therapy.
I'm blocked, locked.
Caught up in my head, dead.
Spewing out words, records,
And I see nothing ahead.
I'm stressed, depressed.
My skull's a void, destroyed.
Coughing up lines, rhymes,
And I see nothing ahead.
A/N: This was originally written as song lyrics, in summer 2018.
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The World's Ending Now
PoetryPoem anthology made up of my poems from the past few years. Sometimes dark, sometimes meaningful, sometimes random.
