Poem from a Place of Insomnia

My life can be a roadblock

a cul-de-sac of woe

I may not find the movement

when I know the way to go

 

I sit too long and ponder

I overthink my life

I cut my way through trouble

like an oversharpened knife

 

I gather broken people

and I wear them like a crown

I blame myself for all their pain

and let them drag me down

 

I fail at work and love affairs

I squander every chance

I barrel through the wilderness

and trip in every dance

 

But at least my life is being lived

with stories I can tell

I may misstep along the way

But Sod It.. What the Hell....

RC 24-9-23