wishing is for fools

✨ It started as self-indulgence, as most things do. It ended with me staring at a block of text waxing poetry (ha) about success and what it takes to get there. ✨

Wishing is for fools.
There is no magic where we are kept,
untempered; but untempted
Fierce flames and blazen eyes,
tears of anger, thrashing pain.
We were meant to be broken, and mended again.

Am I any lesser for what i have seen?
Must i be punished for what i have been?

And there are no petty lies left
for when you are older
Younger and wiser you left your abode.

While time was young, and so were you
Bright and beautiful, you were a star shone bold

Bereft you will warn those
With voice or with thunder
Cast away are those that won't fit the mould.

Crave perfection, obsessed with reflection,
with rhyme and with rhythm
You let your pride be sold.

A tragedy, they called it,
and you certainly didn't mind
when in turn, you had your name, carved into gold

And you had all you've ever wanted,
to remain in myth and mystery, a legend,
a tale to be recalled, and with awe to be told.

You were remembered, but it haunted you
The misery playing in on your mind to no end
For madness and greatness are often the same,
a result of a heart grown numb and old.
It's a shame.


Oh, its a shame.
Beauty lies in pain,
and perhaps beauty lies, too.

Because how can you be so sure
of your own grievances,
and yet have such uncertaince
for the value of your soul?

Author's Note

Impulsive creativity outburst, procrastination, you know how it goes. I have no clue if this poem even makes sense-
Also, this is incomplete. Procrastinating life does wonders for creative flow.
Pardon my excessive use of commas. its been quite a while since i wrote a poem, especially on this site :)
i hope ur doing good :))