Wonderfully mundane.
Wonderfully mundane.
A poem written at a time when I was feeling very sorry for myself.
Wonderfully mundane.
The perception and expectation of my life is so wonderfully mundane.
That if it ran as most assume it does, it would not run at all.
It would be perfectly stagnant. I would not learn or grow.
If I would act as it seems as most would wish, I would not progress and I would not achieve.
I should not dare to hope to be more then I am.
To believe I am not deserved enough to build upon what I have.
To be unconsciously fed negative ideas.
To be taught not to aspire, not to think, not to feel.
Or at least not to feel comfortable enough to express how I feel
To struggle against inadequate praise and the unfair punishment, resonates vividly still
Subject to endure past recriminations that haunt me almost daily.
The struggle of hopes and fears fight on, conflict between deliberation and desire.
The ever painful longing for recognition and acceptance runs deep.
To find faith and discover assurance is imperative to me.
