Since this is a personal blog, I feel (have always felt, really) that I am justified in posting whatever I feel like posting, be it jocular or solemn. So today, dear readers, enjoy a veritable, if extremely short, work of poetry I crafted. It seems to keep in tone of this blog’s ambivalent title, anyway. (And no, future poetry posts will not feature superfluous intros like this.)
Is there a corner I can turn that doesn’t lead to repudiation?
Each step forward is another step downward,
Further into the cavern of uncertainty,
Deeper into the recesses of self-doubt.
Woe, that I should lean so heavily on the consideration of others,
That an esteem built on peer acceptance balances on a crumbling pillar.
And to what do I owe this demise?
An inflated ego, or perhaps my own folly?
My lamentations are bruises to your conscience,
But spare me your sympathy—it’s been iterated days before,
And pity injects the psyche like anesthesia does the bloodstream:
Numbs me to all around me, but the wound still exists.
Rejection wouldn’t sting if it was dosed with acceptance,
But the spurns are continuous, and the notions of success fleeting;
And to wake to another day in the cold embrace of solitude
Renders me a corpse, corporeal but soulless,