Monday, August 10, 2009

Untitled Poem note: Not entirely sure if this is an authentic Teen Angst Poem or an adult angst poem channeled through the bad rhymes of a Teen Angst one.

Am I gifted or cursed for the way that I think?
Have I been given something extra or am I missing a link?
Nothing ever seems complicated or too hard
and I happily go that extra yard.

I see things in patterns and approach things one step at a time;
however I am at a loss to explain my downward climb.
I have always been different and have never fit in.
So many questions I don’t know where to begin.

Is there anyone else out there at all?
Maybe you are the one who should answer my call.
I can’t be the only person who loves to work and live alone,
who reads and writes and hates the phone.
I can never be myself around people I know
and it is a huge effort to keep up the show.
I pretend to be stupid and I never make waves,
bosses seem happier when working with slaves.
I work twice as hard and never complain.
I put up with ignorance and listen to the truly insane.
I lower myself to have half the chance.
Nobody likes a smarty-pants.

I never claimed to be brilliant, but I can’t change what I know.
I swallow my pride and secretly grow.
I need none of the things that people work for.
Although they are nice to have around, I need something more.
What that something is I have yet to find out.
Until then I will quietly accomplish my goals without any doubt.

Everyday something happens that hurts me deeper inside.
A struggle each time to go on or runaway and hide.
So many things in this world that don’t make sense
and closer to home on the same side of the fence.

No one cares about anything at all.
They do their eight hours and disappear behind a wall.
Everyone rips everyone else off.
People are treated like pigs in a troph.
Most people accept that they have to work,
but they take the fun out of it and just go bezerk.

All the rules and regulations.
The lawyers and courts and masturbations.
Schoolyard politics, techno and rap!
Nothing left to enjoy, I am surprised we don’t snap.

Why have tertiary pressures to succeed,
when there are not any jobs for the many that need.
I have painted a grim picture that affects us all.
These problems can be fixed when broken down small.
I program myself daily not to worry about things I can’t control.
I predict the things I can, a one in six chance each time I roll.

By Matt Carroll