Until the scars and bloody legs

They always say: oh wow! So like her father!

So much potential. You know... Big things are coming 

The better life, the opportunities. 

So push and push and push! 

 

But push for what? Till when? 

Until the scars and blood legs? 

Until the lungs are black with tar 

And heart is sick with pain? 

 

Well, we all adjust. It's nothing you can't hide

Emotion's weak. You keep it all inside. 

Depressed? You're such a pussy. Only the strong succeed. 

Failing is not an option. So stupid, awkward, weird. 

 

Push! Push! They sent you for a better life

You're better, smarter than those other ones 

They're happy? But you're not them, 

Potential comes first. 

 

Just like my father? What if I'm not

The possibilities and roads left unexplored 

Too late. Too old. 

Must race, must beat the crowd 

No setbacks to the ordinary 

 

Happiness? That's not for you. Who said? I said

You struggle for the next. You struggle for the more. 

What's more? Where is the end? 

The end is with the scars and bloody legs. 

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Welcome To Postpoems

Raw emotions here - exposed and bleeding - a grabber and holder of the poetic sensiiblities and instincts - looking forward to more of your writings - Just Bein' Stella

 

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Onyamaichi