Scribbled Thoughts

The silence of the busy,

too worried

and driven

to complete their tasks

that the absence

of music

is barely noticed.

And that’s how

the spiral

begins.

Paint yourself

into grief

and create the dead

so you can pretend

the emptiness

is not there,

yet you still

can’t bring yourself

to be happy.

Why?

Ask some crazy questions

to remember

the passion of imagination

and the delight

that you found

the one person

who responds

to your answers

with laughter

and a challenge.

Add the wrong label

and try pretend

you belong.

Sell yourself as

something more,

or belittle yourself

into a cheaper bracket.

Which path will

you take

to avoid

the one that fits.

Bring out a planner

and watch us

force your time away,

refusing freedom

or acknowledgement

that you are human

and not just a convenient

pawn.

A language of birth

hides in this side

of me,

masking that half

that is vulnerable

and real

and too scared

to let you in.

Read about responsibility

we have pulled you from

so we can declare you

competent and liable,

now that you’re behind

and we can blame you

for our timing.

This is how we care

for your well-being.

Enthusiasm gone

and the need to pretend

has drained away,

like your hope,

like your ability

to keep trying.

Cover the walls

with your selfish interests,

resigning yourself,

at last,

that no family portraits

will emerge

to take their place.