Recently got back into my creative flow and here’s a little something I’m working on about feeling stuck while everyone keeps going and all you want to do is press pause on life, but you can’t.
The flowers keep blooming,
the birds keep chirping
each morning and evening
routinely
day in, day out
repeatedly
like the wind that blows on summer morn’s
like the sun that comes up and down and circles round
like my dog that wakes and eats and plays and sleeps
and wakes again.
It’s a rhythm
they’re all following
it carefully deviated routine;
a role they’ve each bin cost for an a play;
in which I must have screwed up my audition.
For now I am left an audience member
Stuck
forever watching
never doing
enslaved to my seat
fated to envy those able to play
because The Show Must Go On.
