I've just been thinking
About my complete
Inability
To be happy
Because of my
Complete lack
Of motivation
To sum it all up
Into one teapot
I'm too tired to move
So I'm too sad to write
Because I hate myself
So instead
I must lay here
And do
Absolutely nothing
Maybe it's the heat stroke talking
Because of this hell wave of 2021
But
Shouldn't my sadness
And depression
And tiredness for the the thing I love
Push me
To want to pursue it more in depth
To its full potential
Shouldn't this wave
Of clashing emotions
And self discovered anger
Be the nitrous fuel
To write that fucking screenplay
Doesn't that make
The most sense
I wish it were that easy
But it appears that it's not
To that person within me
That writer
That so desperately wants
To tell a story
Speak louder to my laziness
Scream at it
Tell my depression
To stop being a little bitch
And scream your story
Because goddammit
It needs to be
Told
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 3
Poetrythird poem collection. they aren't in any particular order or anything like that, and after 100, there will always be a new one. if you've been here a while, I'm sure you know the drill. now, about the cover. it was a random Thursday, and an old fri...
