Not a poem

I need to start writing again.
words never came easy.

I worry all the time.
Spent hours lurking self help "life purpose" sites
gets you dizzy.

In the morning the repetition begins...
wake, coffee, work, lunch, work, work, work, home.
Maybe ill stop to run an errand or
hit the gym on the way home.
Then start it over again.

I used to dream big.
as a child lies flew my way.
"believe in yourself and the road is paved."
bullshit.

Opportunity NOW does not come easy
and chasing and chasing and dedication...
doesn't seem to change a thing.
Just struggle, blood, tears.
Cry out to someone, anyone who'd hear.

embrace me.
im yearning.
this artist inside
this pain is seeping to the outside.
where's my medium...
the escape.

just two black holes
stare back from the mirror
an unrecognizable.
face.