Okay so lately I've been getting bored and I've been writing little paragraphs and I figured I might as well share and ask how I can improve them. P has turned some of them into poems, so yeah, hope you like them. They're not that great but I'm working on it. I feel like I’m spinning out of control on a ride where I’m clinging on for dear life. Ever turn and twist it makes it threatens to throw me off, weakening my grip. Every so often it will hit a straight where as I briefly relax and strengthen my grip but it does not last long and before it it’s twisting and forever changing again. I know I’m powerless to control which way it goes and can only hope my grip will hold and I’ll stay the course. I’m standing on the edge of the world by myself, gazing out and wondering what lies beyond. Feeling like a tiny ant taking my first steps into the huge jungle, trying to find my place, where I belong. Trying to make a difference and make my stamp on the world. Just wishing to make a difference and not just fade into the background, to be remembered long after I have gone and for the right reasons. I wish I could close my eyes and escape to another world full of magic and fantasy creatures. Where I can be who ever I want without anyone judging. I can be as free as a bird flying up into the sky. I can do whatever I like, there are no limits. But, you se, the only problem is that each time I would have to return to reality like hitting a brick wall. I’d have to live knowing what I don’t have in this world and I wouldn’t want to ever open my eyes. I feel like picking up the world and smashing it against a wall. Just watching as it shatters into an unimaginable amount of pieces. Then I would take one of those pieces and use it as a tool to create a new world afresh. I feel like I’m trapped in a transparent maze. I pound on the walls but I cannot escape. It seems like every way I turn is a dead end, time after time I fail. But I do not stop or give up hope for I know that even if I fail a thousand times, each time I learn and improve. For if just once I succeed, then I know everything will be okay. P's poem version Trapped in a transparent maze, hands pounding on the walls. No escape. Time after time Failure. I do not give up hope. I persevere. I fail a thousand times. I learn. And I hope that just once, I might succeed. Because in the face of that one success, the thousand failures perish. The maze of dead ends will shatter And everything will be okay. I feel like I’m on a small raft in the middle of a vast ocean, no sign of land in any direction. Still I try to paddle to maintain some sense of control but the current is too strong carrying me away of a route not of my choosing. On my journey I meet people some try to help, some try to hinder me. And sometimes with all the turbulence they cause, they end up doing the opposite. But ultimately I’m just drifting away to where ever the winds may take me. P's poem version My raft is small With no signs of land in any direction, the ocean is vast. I try to paddle. To keep control. The current is too strong and too vicious. It overwhems me, carrying away on a course not of my choosing. I meet people. Some help. Others hinder. In the end, their intentions don't matter. Their course is also dictated by the current. Ultimately, I'm just drifting. Drifting to wherever the winds may take me. I feel like my head is filled with the words of a thousand people, constantly whispering at me, telling me what to do, where to go, what to say. I am a mere puppet of their instructions. They pull me this way and that, tearing me apart. Fighting for control. No way to know who is right and who is wrong, an endless struggle inside of me. I try to fight, to break free of all these controlling me. To reclaim my individuality. For through it all I cannot see, why I can’t simply just be me? P's poem version My head is filled with the words of a thousand people, constantly whispering at me. Ordering me. Telling me what to do. Where to go. Even what to think. A mere puppet of their instructions, I get pulled this way And that. Tearing me. Apart. Not knowing what is right and what is wrong, I fight in the endless struggle of my being. Not for right or for wrong. For myself. All through this fight, I cannot see. Why can't I choose Just to be me?
