Recently I’ve met an artist that has inspired a renaissance within me. I’m a very complex individual who dabbles in many things, a lot of which are contradictory to one another. However, this is about writing; which is something I’ve always enjoyed. Crafting words together inspires unlimited creativity, and can be an incredible release. This, and an appreciation for poetry, was taught to me back in high school by an english teacher named Mr. Dicus.
Supposedly, writing poetry isn’t something a man does, so needless to say I succumbed to society and it was eventually phased out of my life. Unfortunately when you’re a male of that age almost everything takes a back seat to impressing women. However, with age comes wisdom and harder skin. So with the encouragement of my friend, I’ve decided to give poetry another shot. Since I find myself knee deep in the shit of finals at the moment, I thought it’d be best to write about what I’m currently going through (although I will say it is considerably embellished). So here it is:
Where It All Funnels In
As time withers away concern starts to rise,
You must keep going regardless of tired eyes.
Wearing a calm and collected face like a poorly made disguise,
Secretly drowning in anguish, surely this will be my demise.
All bases must be covered, every fact and date memorized;
No room for failure, every potential question analyzed.
Papers are now bleeding in yellow highlighter ink demanding attention,
Brain losing focus, struggling with cognitive retention.
Thoughts of surrender as self doubt starts to creep in,
Unfortunately times over, time for the finals to begin.