Every day, I give up on my dream.
So I tell myself, I shall
try again tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes. Tomorrow always comes!
And that’s the problem.
Every day, I give up on my dream.
My dedication flares; my ambition enlightens; my legs ripen
and, into another world, I depart!
But this path. This path only prolongs
as I can no longer hear the song
of my Will.
So, by the end of the day, I give up on my dream.
I can no longer spin that wheel.
Then a day passes,
Regret buries itself in me
I peel myself off of the battlefield
I refrain from thinking of my shameful past
but regret already buried itself into me!
And after day after day comes and goes,
regret is reincarnated in me
because—you see—I try, I try
I really do. But somehow
every day, I give up on my dreams.
Some say it’s human.
Some say it’s okay.
But, I think that’s the problem.
This poem first appeared at Sircharlesthepoet.com
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