Once again the blank page mocks me,
But when I speak only strangers’ words are heard.
Our language is of empty insights and gaudy revelations cause
Inspiration is hard to find in purgatory.
At 17 years old I’m standing on the edge of something big,
Something so big that I can’t even describe it, so big that I don’t even know what it is,
So big that it swallows me whole.
And as others, deservedly or undeservedly, move on to their respective futures,
I am stuck, like a rodent lacking steroids, left behind in this f*cking rat race.