PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I swear the cockiest people are the most insecure.

It’s like they’re trying to tell themselves they’re something they’re not.

It’s a façade.

They try to act all confident,

But in the back of their head they doubt it all.

Like does this person really think about me as much as I think about them.

Probably not.

I’m not special.

I don’t know what to do.

I act like I know what I’m doing.

I have no idea.

I’m following my intuition but will it lead me into the right direction.

I just fear what could be

And what couldn’t be.

Because realistically no one gets everything they want.

It’s too perfect for me to obtain.

I’m just an ignorant peasant.

Broken

Ugly

Misguided

But he thinks he’s the man.

Until he breaks down

And says he can’t do it.

He’s not Superman.

He’s too human.

I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way.

Too scared to share this.

You’ll think I’m weak.

You’ll see me for exactly what I am.

Or for what I think I am.

I never know what to say.

It’s like my brain gets stuck

I can’t think.

I can’t function.

My ego breaks me.

Tearing me down piece by piece as I write this.

Sometimes I wish I could do more.

But I’m incapable.

This resume means nothing.

These accomplishments mean nothing.

That’s just how I feel right now.

Just helping me run away.

J Cole said it best.

What I’m running from I don’t know.

I don’t even know if I should keep writing.

Is this even good enough.

I can’t be the judge.

My ego will get in my way.

My self-esteem pushes me but its pulling me

Apart.

I flatter myself

Why?

I’m nothing special at all.

Just an ordinary person.

Short.

Skinny.

Sometimes I indulge.

Does it feed this ego?

Feeding this thing that’s tearing me down.

Music and God are my only escape.

This writing is just me trying to break from the cage.

The only key to this cage.

Locked in.

For a while it was sex but that’s no longer involved.

It’s like once I started I couldn’t stop.

Now it’s all I think about.

I try to stop it.

I don’t want to think about it.

Life is about so much more.

This sex fed my ego.

Now my ego is just feeding on whatever it can find.

Girls voluntarily loving to give me a piece of them.

The only piece I want from you.

But it’s different if I actually have feelings for you.

I want that last.

But my ego kills my thought process.

Making it harder for the both of us.

Don’t you hate it as much as I do.

You would if you knew what it does.

So much to say

 so little paper.

Maybe I have too much hope

Too little.

I don’t know.

That’s why I’m here.

Because I don’t know.

Everything is distorted.

Vision impaired

Without alcohol.

I waste my time on girls

Alcohol

Weed.

That stuff just makes me think more.

A mind that wanders too much can get lost in the wrong place.

I’m not even honest with myself.

I am right now.

Each of these words are honesty spilling.

Feeling better each drop.

It took so long to come out.

It took so long to admit.

But I finally can now.

It’s liberating.

Now It’s time for  rebuilding what was broken down.