Poetry

My Muse

This is what you state is your desire
the yearning to be the one set to inspire
giving me more and more pieces to write
yet can you accept my truth with all your might?

The pain I feel creeps up consistently
tight and piercing in my chest repeatedly
my heart is glass shards ripping through the inside
my spirit weak and frail, it curls up and cries

Simple desires of respect, appreciation, and attention
these come back to me in the form of argumentation
moments of truth are pushed to moments of distraction
in the end, the cycle continues as there is no resolution

Alone, I sit in this home built for more
Alone, I pack up my life, sleeping on the floor
Alone, I struggle with balancing stress and pain
Alone, yet this situation is supposed to be the change

The change from my life being so empty
to be filled with being loved and intimacy
yet so far all it has been is fleeting moments
purely from need, no moments of enjoyment

Speech from necessity not for conversation
not even close to a priority, obviously the disregarded option
comes last no matter the circumstances
yet I am bashed for being selfish

Putting my needs, desires, wants, and wishes to the side
so many inconveniences I keep quiet, hold them inside
my time, my feelings, emotions, and everything irrelevant
yet I am the monster whenever I speak, I create the damage

Yes, my muse, I am inspired

Inspired to cry, to disappear, to crawl in a ball and block out the world
Inspired to these feelings of hopelessness, emptiness, and more
Inspired to feel I will never be enough, giving you my all is useless
this is how it is to be the one inspired purely by pain and stress

 

 

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