I haven’t written a poem in fucking ages
But when I do, it’s really quite contagious
Where does time go?
Or am I just a victim of mass frustration…
I don’t get it,
I’m good at starting shit
That I can never finish
My hopes and dreams all do diminish
This life I’m sure must have some limits
Or is endless potential just trapped within us?
I must have missed getting a key
To unlock the gates of
How this life should be
It surely would be useless
Cuz I’d be stuck there with the losers
Just tryna break free