Ehj
She stares at the wall
Dreaming of being a poet
The type of poet who explores the world
Discovering life and the way others perceive it
Writing, chain smoking, and drinking copious amounts of coffee and wine
Hoping to be published
With a limited vocabulary, all others can relate
The type of poetry that is real, raw, and honest
Many others have the same passion
They become immersed in society, and money, and living, and money
And their day job sucks the ideas right out of their brain
Until all they know is the eight to five
Until all passion is covered up by layer upon layer of heavy sheet rock
The clock unable to stop or slow
With a lack of consent, she retires and starts living
And in those short 10 years, her time on earth is done
Her writing is unfinished
Her words are never spoken
Her dream is no longer existent.
(via oldtimefriend)
(Source: aussiefool)
(Source: splitpeavintageblog)
(Source: blessedwildapplegirl)
