practice.. 2023 Jun 26 Mon.. poems!

my turn?

When do I get to be angry?
There! I said it, almost already livid.
I don't know why anger appeals to me like that.
For one thing I'm bad at it. I'm pitifully weak.
When I do boil over, I feel really sad,
or in the middle of it I laugh at myself.

Why am I yelling? What will that do?
But it's truly not fair I can't tie my own shoe!
Still, there are layers on layers on layers here
He's funny! He's eloquent! He's talented, too!
Some are envious I can walk or talk or play a tune
They all seem surprised I do anything at all!

See? Right there! It drives me insane!
The bar of expectation is incredibly low,
so just by trying anything at all I'm a hit!

Amazing! Inspiring! I could never imagine!
It's not so bad, I think with chagrin,
Even when I'm coasting along, they'll call it a win.

Then who am I mad at? I'm really not sure.
I've been there. I did it. I screamed and cried!

Why me? Who am I to be afflicted like this?
I shouted and ranted but no one replied.
The pain and anguish built up and.. well.. got boring!
So I went outside and found something to try.

I think that's my answer, then, about my turn.
I did get angry and threw it all in to burn.
Then it was gone. I dove right into it, pushing until
I heard that voice talking.. I hear it still..

It's all good my friend, there's no need to cry!
Let's just all go outside and find something to try!

nothing seems right

and then there are days when nothing seems right.
I try not to panic and wait for the night.
I can't pick just one, all these choices appear.
I don't know what to say.
I just wait out the day.
It's finally dark, only one option here..
I'll just go to bed and it soon will be light.