How come I can't write good enough to satisfy my mind?
I search through my brains and nothing I find
is worth talking about or letting anyone know
I wish I could get my brain to work and go.
My poetry makes no sense to anyone but me
How is that supposed to set my writing free?
I can't think up anything worthwhile to write
Nothing I think of comes out contrite.
I wish there was some way that I could improve
something to do to me, something to move
I need some inspiration, but I just can't grasp
anything worthwhile anything to clasp
I need something to hold onto but no matter how hard I try
I can't seem to reach it. It makes me want to cry.
I feel sometimes down, and confusing thoughts fill my head.
It comes with me where'er I go, till I lay down in bed
even then it still haunts me as minutes turn to more
my head is so filled, there's no more room to store.
Dispel all my fears and put my anxieties to rest
and maybe my poetry, will turn out to be the best
I wish I was special, I wish people noticed me
I wish I were visible, then it'd be me they'd see.
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3 comments:
Well, if you want to read a good book, try anything Charles Martin writes.
His books make my heart cry a little bit.
Wow. I totally know what you are talking about....
http://thoughtsofheidi.blogspot.com/2008/11/allegory.html
your poem is pretty much exactly what I was thinking when I wrote that one... lol
haha, we have similar minds eh heidi?
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