happy

people always ask 

“what do you want to be?”

“what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Nurses, architects, teachers, and politicians

Everyone lists a job

Everyone always lists a job

i don’t know what i’m going to do for work

hell i barely know what I’m interested in

but i do know i will be happy

all want to be is happy when i grow up

i spend my days angry and frustrated at myself

i spend my days feeling absolutely nothing

synapses firing and feeling as if they don’t land

like there are disconnects 

between what i want and what i can do

like there’s contestant static

distracting my brain from my goal

whenever i try to read or write or do anything

all I’m met with is inability

i get lost in the words and don’t understand a thing

i get lost in my mind and can’t form a sentence

i get lost and i can’t get up

i get lost and i stare at a screen

no idea what to do

even though i have an exact goal in mind

i want to scream but it catches in my throat

every damn time it catches

i can’t even scream in frustration

everyone sees this put together introvert

when in truth all i am in a shell

a shell of a person just yearning to be happy

This poem is about: 
Me

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