Melancholy

11. m e d i o c r e [ poetry '17 ]

I am a big vessel of unfinished thoughts,
Of unfinished emotions and unheard words.
I struggle to keep my pen and paper,
In hopes of releasing my exaggerated temper.

I write when I am bored, sick, and inspired.
I write when I feel like it.
Unlike others, I don't mind,
Being seen through the pages.

I draw pictures when I feel that kind of thing,
The love that strikes me, and makes me feel.
I draw eyes, that reflect something
Things that people always fails to see.

I never told I am an expert,
I never said that I am super good,
I only did with everything I could,
To make a space for something new.

But alas! I think people are mistaken,
You call me mediocre when I really am.
You thought I would be hurt,
But I am not.
I may be affected, but I will never be done.

And so as I start another piece
That connects my feelings for the world, see.
I will not mind your painful words,
Because my actions are greater than yours.

And you may call me arrogant,
For saying these things.
But let me call you Mr. Perfect,
For your way of seeing things.

You thought I will be stopped

By your baseless accusations?

Well, too bad I don't think I would,

Because I will climb higher than you.