Dream Big You Said To Me.
You write with elegance
And dance through the hallway when the poetry flows
And astounds, and makes you quiver,
It’s your medication.
I observe you nailing unwanted notes
On a wall coloured in red
That’s where the rejection letters hang
It’s a shrine of war and blood, sweat and tears.
Some days you don’t wash
Other days you’re as high as a plane
Flurrying through the sky
And headed to a dreamland.
You drink your optimism away
From a glass the size of an enlarged heart
Power was your strength,
You now seem stuck in between
Normality and hazardous thoughts.
The city was your playground
You’re cooped up and writing plotlines
That aren’t structured or compelling
Art has succumbed to procrastination
As you sit and scream annihilation
And your bones shake and your skin tightens
This is a breakdown.
You throw expensive vases at the walls
You cut yourself on splinters
Begging to sleep, praying to wake up a new writer,
Of engrossing fiction, of well-rounded characters,
And a queen of those allusive plot-lines.
And dream big you said to me
As I hung onto your coattails
When you drank to wash away the taste of failure
I’ve observed too much…