I am a drawer

I want to be a painter

So that I can become rich

So that my jewellery box can be filled

With golden souvenirs of a place I've never been

I get nostalgic about a time I've never lived

But I want to paint it on a canva

And just reminisce

Of a time where simple things were not a daydream

I am not a poet

Although I'd like to be 

I write to relieve my symptoms of fatigue

I get chronic overthinking

A syndrome that nukes any trace of joie de vivre 

But I still live

I write when I feel like it

Then I stop and hate myself for being bad 

I want to be good

To people

To trees, to places, to art 

But I have nowhere else to go 

But to a helpless dump town where I park my car 

I scream out to the world

Please let me go

Free me of myself

So that I can grow

I apply to jobs I'm not qualified for

So I lie

Am I still good?

Why can't I lie my way to heaven?

Everyone else seems to get there

Luck doesn't come easy for a writer

If I could be a self proclaimed prophet

I could own the world 

And I could be where I want to be

And be praised for it

But I am not a writer

I'm an artist

No, that's not real

I'm a drawer

I withdraw money and I hope more magically appears

I am the victim of the economy

So I create an NFT

It took me 3 minutes

I am hoping I can become rich

Is it good to want wealth?

I want to be good

But the shackles of life takes me to a place

Where I have to care about dust

Floating in the wind

Like a ghost who lost all of its atoms

And longs for mercy

Free me of my soul, it told me

You have no soul, I said to it

You are a thief

I want to be good

I want to be creative

I am nothing

I am only searching for money

I am a drawer

Is that what I am?

Can I be more than this?

Is there a way out of this?

Reviews

[poetgurl]

If I could be a self proclaimed prophet
I could own the world
And I could be where I want to be
And be praised for it

love this part, such a wonderful creative write
one to ponder on.

[Lana]

thank you a lot