I scrape my motivation off the
floor –
Pretend that I can face another
day.
I might appear to go on as before,
But am not really here. What can I say?
It’s self-indulgent to
write poetry
Like this, so I try not to, but
I fail.
I realize that this is “Me,
me, me”.
Who are these other people who
all sail
Through life? They have problems, too. I know that.
Start with compassion. That’s what Buddha said.
What conclusion am I to arrive
at?
Who knows? Must drag myself out of this bed
Each day, and it's getting very
hard to.
I guess that it is just the same
for you.