why is it so frustrating;
must it always be this way?
to experience my emotions is what i need,
but to do that is paradoxical,.
forcing myself to feel an impression
”forcing myself to feel” - an oxymoron in itself.
reading words rather than saying, and they’re
written in anything but stone.
reminders i set myself give me no recognition.
in the future, will i even recognise that i wrote this?
will i instead write a song, an essay, rather than a poem
denigrating what 'new' sentiments have surfaced in me by then?
there is no resolution in this!
i’ve no poetic flourish or climax for this;
the stanzas don’t match together, and the ending has no rhythm
will i always be this frustrating?
i hope not.