Monday, 15 July 2013

Picking the Pieces

Here I am, at the confusing cross roads of life, once again
Doing nothing to mitigate my lingering pain
I have lost the drive to thrive
And I have lost the fervour to soar
As though my wings are severed and my spirit, caged
I seem to aspire for no more
My zest has died down and my temper, unraged
My best is no longer there…
I have searched for it everywhere
My pride is broken and my grounding, shaken
Just nothing seems to be left in me... all is taken
So how do I pick myself from the dust
And where do I go to regain my lost trust
A hand is all I need to emerge from this void hole
And perhaps a gentle nudge to reassure my cold soul
Both these should come from within me

So that I am solely responsible for whom I ought to be