To Disappointment

So as I have just written

And have been writing about

In words encumbered

By metaphor

And broken verse

Without rhythm or rhyme

Is that this world

This life in which I love

In which I am so








Is not one that I wish

To be a part of anymore

For every dream I ever had

Ever dared to want to have

To hold

To nurture

Proved to be nothing more

Than smoke and mirrors

An illusion


False hope

Make believe

A sad and pathetic

Fairy tale

In which I was every

Single character

A comedic tragedy

That I only I could represent

With this ridiculous


Floundering through

Each and every day

Taking two steps forward

And twelve steps back

To see that everything

That I ever wanted

Is a clawing



Causing me to be just that:

A disappointment

Through all I do

All I could have been

All I should be

Weighed and measured

Against exactly what I am

Exactly how I am

And it’s true to see


That I have absolutely


In a spectacular fashion

Because if truth be told

I’ve always been afraid

To know myself

To be myself

And I fear that still

My mind and soul

Will never be known

Not by me

For I have no idea

Where to even begin

Where to look

And I don’t even know

If I even have the energy

To pretend to care

Not anymore

For I am not one for this world

With the blandness

Of all I see and do and know

A grey swamp

With little difference

Just differing


From each day to the next

As I wake on the morrow

Like every day

Both before and to come

To disappointment.
© Kris Blackburn 13/09/16


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