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The Struggle of Creativity
Don't be a creative soul,
you won't survive.
I crack my knuckles
hoping my bones will speak to me
but all they ever say is
"give up while you still can"
so I have silenced them
but my hands are sore
and every bone in my body yells,
they say they're tired of the whimpering echoes
my heart makes every time I fail
and I yell back
that I'm so sorry for putting them through
what I thought was creative integrity.
I thought it was beautiful to create,
but no one tells you how easy it is
to fail at something before you even start
I feel I'm already at the end of a road
I haven't set foot on.
I should be a doctor
and try to save lives the normal way
because reviving humans through words
is so far from simple.
I could be a lawyer
but justice is so starved.
Maybe I could work in an office
like my parents
but I know I'd stare at myself
every night and day
wondering why the hell I let myself settle.
Sorry mom and dad,
you raised someone who has
fallen in love with the idea
that words change the world
I'm sorry I can't sit among classmates
studying Freud and learning derivatives
mathematics and psychology
I just want to learn how
if we put enough passion into something
it can grow beyond our imaginations
I never dance on the idea of failure
because if I lose at this
I will have proven to the world
that life really is mediocre
but I refuse to believe such a thing.
I know how to take these opportunities
and let them flourish
I know how to be brilliant
everlastingly genius
I can be that
It's who I am
and if anyone tells me otherwise,
they're lying.
poem
by
Vanessa Grixti
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