The manic mind seems to seize,
And when I fall apart I fall below
But right now I feel good
saying that to myself so I feel like you,
I sink into depression when I ask myself questions
about the past
And life lessons still leave me guessing.
Burned many bridges in my time
Lost friends who were like brothers.
A lot of people don’t fully understand me.
I guess I am still trying to figure myself out.
I write and word of mouth says that I am good at it.
I think therefore I still exist.
I test myself
To be better then I can be.
There are a lot better rhymers out there
A lot better writers.
More people with more messages.
Cause the ones I send are open ended.
Don’t really fit in
Wish I did.
Feel like a question mark,
on the end of this poem makes sense
cause I am raising questions
I don’t really quite get yet.
Or maybe I do and I am lying again.
I miss those friends who were there
And then you grew and they disappeared
Or you fell back and they left the square
Or they got sick of your shit.
I am not perfect never thought I was.
Just tried to write and relay my life.
A one act playwright who keeps writing the same play
another poem about poetry again.
Shit is getting played, you don’t let yourself go.
You’d be amazed.
You don’t want to know how dark I can go
And honestly I’m afraid.
I hope that the medicines keep my train on track
And never derails me again.
I write about poetry ’cause poetry is a friend
I can always depend on, and like the phrase goes,
Let em go, if they come back, they might realize
something, that you were really living in Nevertown
And in truth never really meant nothing to no one.
But I do now
And that is what I strive for
To be more.
Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His “Jagged Thoughts” column appears weekly.
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