Inspiration

When two soft fingers connect, there is a certain kind of energy that flows between them.

With the first burst of pain from the initial static touch, the spark generated is daunting, but equally exhilarating.

This is the basis of inspiration.

 

Sure, I need air to breathe,

I need food to keep on “living”,

I need water,

shelter,

companionship,

societal acceptance,

good grades,

scholarships,

my dog,

ice cream sandwiches on a summer day,

espresso during the latest nights,

endless hours to read books,

or to sleep,

peanut butter and bananas,

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera,

But

I need inspiration to get up in the morning,

I need inspiration to eat, to drink, to study,

To go against the crowd and just say “screw it all” as I pave my own road.

I need inspiration to write my poems,

To place pen to paper and write away all of my troubles, my successes, my “dull” moments.

Inspiration is something that I am incapable of living without

Because,

With inspiration, I am capable of pulling myself up by the bootstraps and tackling this intricate platform called life.

I am capable of influencing the people around me:

of prompting low income kids to continue their education by working with them during the summer,

of lending a hand to those who have turned their backs to the light by giving them something to live for,

of being a shoulder to cry on during the messiest of breakups,

or a voice to laugh with while watching “11 drunk guys play slender” on YouTube.

And I have noticed,

that I may not say the right things in the right moments,

or give the best advice,

or put in 100% effort, all the time,

But I can assure you, 

Without a doubt,

that inspiration, has given me the opportunity,

To keep on trying.   

This poem is about: 
Me

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