dreary, weary, most lackadaisical day
serious, worn-out, and caught up in the fray
of non-thinking, head-spinning, nonsensical displays
say, have you ever not been present when others aren't away?
hey, cut out the bevy of um's, maybe's, and okay's
and instead concentrate
on the things that aren't so opaque
or maybe that should be my strategy of late:
to try my hardest not to be dismayed
by the uncertain future that feels like a weight
and running full steam into me like a freight
train. it's hard to pick up the energy after you've ate
when you've basked in the glory of cakes and baked
goods and have had a taste
of hunger that's been hard to insatiate
crave, to be better than what's there for you straight out the gate
hate, the traits people have placed on you that don't really explain
who you are. but wait
that's just another lame game if you're not so sure of your personal aims
more of the same--
death, war, destruction, and pain
though you're not to blame, per se, they still can't be tamed
leaving you drained and only partially sane
so, mate, what's on the horizon for what I became
any sage wisdom that you can ordain
as I navigate the tumultuous rage that so frequently characterizes this stage in the maize
my fears I've tried so far to keep at bay
but how do I gauge?
at what age do I get to lay claim to my name in fame?
and create something that's finally here to stay?
or do I leave it to fate
and simply turn the page?