NaPoWriMo Day 13 – Stunted

Do you know the active pain,

the conscious realization of being

stunted.

Trapped by our own want for gain,

we are caught in ambition, feeling

unwanted

when love is all around us. We ignore

the embrace of the wind, the rain,

the spouse.

Worse, when we deny our chore

to contribute; instead we complain.

Douse

this engulfing sense of expectation.

This demand for recognition without

sacrifice.

Offer up yourself with conviction

that, someday, the world throughout,

without vice,

will congratulate you, bow before you

in honor and respect, for being yourself.

Grow

beyond your years, push outward to

the endless stars, not lay dormant on the shelf.

Know.

 

 

I have no freakin’ idea for this. It started as a, “I can’t find my muse,” kind of poem, but I hate the word… “Muse.” People use it way too often in the poetry scene, so I thought I’d go a different route, and somehow this came out of it. Been trying to get out of my free-form comfort zone too, so trying to rhyme, which I suck at. Any feedback is appreciated!

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