PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My lack of ambition is due to the hours I keep.

All the lessons I learn are learned as I sleep.



I lose more of me every minute.

Or so it feels.

Every hour awake is wasted,

Or used to get wasted.

I can no longer pinpoint the hour, the minute,

When I stopped minding that my life was a waste.



All the dreams I used to have are up for grabs.

I don't need them anymore.

Those kind of dreams make me feel like a fool.

Who am I to chase those idealistic fantasies?

I have nothing to offer them,

They are no longer available to the likes of me.



All useful lessons become unlearned as morning creeps,

And a lack of these things prevent me to sleep.