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  • Writer's pictureGarathe Den

Break The Habit

Updated: Oct 21, 2020

Creativity wants to be birthed from me

All my day-dreams want to escape their solitude

I want it too, but I keep doubt holding me down

While the congress in my mind continually argues excuse

Maybe I'm not cursed, maybe I'm just clearly a fool

To hold talents and vision to lapse in synapse

My collective works of art all fragments of thought

Will I release them one day or just choose to relapse


While dreams fan the embers trying to ignite this flame

While I'm holding my breath just hoping for change

It's a shame because my vision maintains to be blurry

And I won't hurry out to greet what I feel is estranged

For I like my comforts and all that's familiar

But don't think that I'm lazy in this imagination

I've lived more lives then I'm willing to confess

And that might be enough, as I figure, in relation


Yet some like a more institutionalized way

Where the weight of success is a constant demand

Start a rat race for a title to claim

To the applause of a corporate command

But sometimes the gutter holds treasures and shade

And I'm more apt to just stoop to that level

For I'd rather have nothing then the pride of a slave

Enchanted, advocating the devil


Relax, it's a fact, the idols of religion

Are a manifest destiny in all of our trades

Trained like an animal, shaped in behavior

To the display of identity through these parades

But I'm tired of marching to tunes undistinguished

From every other cult that sings their own praise

So until my dreams are clear, I'll just stay in this place

And try not to feel burdened by the means of delay


Life might be short but why rush to mistake

To forsake who you are in exchange of promotion

When you could hone your own skill, though it may not be staged

Is it still not a worthy devotion

I think it might be, so I'll continue to dream

And if some fade away, well it is what it is

After all, what nightmare would come to arise

If I was granted every one of my wishes


So I'll wrestle with patience, impatient, impatience

Dancing twelve rounds with doubt and assurance

I'll take my own beating and rise, and repeating

In the hopes I'll still find my endurance

Don't need approval, don't need the applause

Yet sometimes I still crave it in panic

Trauma as it surfaced, to heal to a purpose

In the hopes I'll finally break the habit


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