Who do I write for you ask?
Well, life doesn’t stop when you’re tired
Or when you’re sick
In all of the work, the relationships, the demands
It snowballs and grows
Life is a bitch and we are but servants meant to accept the commands
Never to say no
Never to say can’t or won’t
Always helpful, always needing to stow
Away all of the personal reasons, the ideals, the legitimate excuses
We go home at the end of the day
Having bottled up our profound thoughts and having absorbed the abuses
Of co-worker, family, and friend
When even our news tells us how to think and how to feel
It’s hard to imagine a time where we can mend
Our broken spirits and those of others
When we can use our talents and our own thoughts
To spark creativity, find solutions, become brothers
And sisters working for peace and a new day.
When I try too hard to remember it all
The thoughts I have, the dreams, the hopes
So overwhelmed by life that I close my ears to a greater call
I record those words
Poetry, bullet points and prose
In doing so I separate myself from the herds who are content to spend their days
Being spoon-fed someone else’s opinions
Willing to accept the latest craze.
So, who do I write for?
I write for me.
But I am willing to share if you are willing to listen
And if you are willing to share
I am more than willing to listen
I write for me
For now at least.