Gold

A poem about gifted kid burnout

I used to find passion so easily.

I found it infinitely behind leaves,
and stars,
and all the things I didn’t understand.

The world was mine,
rich and curious before me.

Everything I touched turned to gold,

so I chased it with arms wide open,
eager to accept everything it had to offer,
until the ground that my steps once blessed
with gold
became rot
beneath my feet.

Everything I touched went putrid and
what a sick,
sick
scent
that was.

Everything I touched died
and nothing
was ever
the same
again.

Author's Note

I love hearing from and connecting w/ my readers. Don't be scared to put your feelings in the comments

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

It sounds as though you have received an unknowing lesson from the world. What seems great at first can go south pretty quickly. Hope you weren't burned too badly in the descent.

[Dess]

It's not so much about learning a lesson and more about my experience as a passionate kid encountering trauma, but that's a good interpretation! Thank you for your comment