The Passenger

When I’m forced to make a difficult decision,
I used to be brash and make the hottest choice
I can’t help but be timid and not take reign
in fear that my hottest choice will burn me.

When I’m in a metaphorical train about to crash,
I used to be determined and jump out
I can’t help but be morbidly curious
to see how bad I get hurt
or whether I have any appendages of resilience left.

I have become a passenger of resignation
and to be honest,
it feels quite comfortable,
not taking any responsibility of my actions
or strenuously working to achieving my goals
that may never be accomplished.

But I hate myself when I’m like this
I’m sick and tired of daydreaming the life I want
and not working on ATTAINING the life I want to be have,
the woman I want to love,
the future I want to take,
the insecurities I want to break,
the man I want to be,
the vision I want to achieve.

But it’s hard to wrap myself around
abstract feel good terms of
“You Can Do It!”
“You’re a Champion!”
“Carpe ####### Diem!”
and actually make a difference
with a gigantic laziness monster
giving me seductive beers of apathy
and sitting on my legs at the same time.

I must motivate myself,
tap into my primal side of chaos,
and with the utterance of these words
shouted out aloud from this poem
take my breaths,
build that energy,
and then roar:



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