Frustration
eating away,
never ceasing to amaze
and cripple the dreams of
my tired spirit.
Capable yet bound by
the chains of
frustration,
weighing heavily across
my weakened shoulders.
“I’ll never set the world on fire,”
I heard myself tell someone.
That’s frustration talking.
It knows there’s so much
more
that I can do,
so it throttles my naive efforts
no matter how often
I ignore it.
Frustration,
that takes bites from my skull;
savours the taste of
any confidence I gain.
It bubbles out as different tongues,
harsh words,
unkind voices,
directed at the innocents
who show me nothing but love.
Frustration begone,
for it is you that ruins
what I can be.
