I Keep All of my Paintings in my Bedroom

Wed, 01/30/2019 - 19:34 -- desole

I can sit in bed all day

Write stories of love,

And happiness,

And success.

And every expression of emotion

Is guarded up; soliloquy.

 

And I can listen to the others

While they talk about theirs.

But before I speak, remind myself

Nobody really cares.

When will my time be?

The sun is out,

My hands still shake like winter.

I need to take my shoes off, and

Walk barefoot for a change.

Oh, where is my integrity?

Is there, somewhere, a better me?

Now I’m standing in the front

I know my expertise,

I love what I do and I love my results,

So I feel my pride with the door shut

What if I’m conceited?

It opens, my showcases close

Someone else can do better, nobody wants to see.

And sure, they’re in their underwear,

But they’re still looking at me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741