On Giving Up

Haven't written poetry in a while, but I felt like it tonight. It was nice to write and what came out was a good snapshot of where I am right now.



I am dangling at the end of my rope,
trying to pull the moon to earth all alone.
I've always wanted to be witty,
always wanted to be important,
always wanted a guide to lead me forward.
My net is full, but I fear
it may be full of junk.
Inventions once genius,
now useless.

Waves of doubt
crash over
me and my floating home.
The compass has fallen overboard.
My toes threaten to lift off
the wooden planks.
Somedays I am filled with wonder of a criminal sort.
What would happen it I let go?
Littered sea to shining sea.
The rest of the oceans are. Why not mine too?