Dizzy in the Head
Our world can be quite a headache sometimes, especially when you let others make choices for you. Trying to make the right choice isn't always easy, yet we need each other's advice from time to time. This poem is dedicated to my friend Forrest, who helped teach me about what it means to be your own man.
I feel dizzy in the head like a painter who's inhaled too many thinners, but all of my life's work can be summed up with a blank canvas.
I am a godless insurgent who's hell-bent on finding ambition in a world full of busy-bodies and apathetic instructors; I am man who's too busy trying to make-believe in his assurances in a world of uncertainty.
Through the years of being led by the nose I have lost the ability to smell. Time and time again I've told myself I will succeed tomorrow, but success has been pre-defined by everyone except me.
When will the time come where I meet myself at my own door instead of another stranger's house? When will the mirror show my own face instead of the face of the outlander I see before me? I believe it's high-time for change.
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