On a Napkin... I write...

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    On a Napkin... I write...
    ...300 million people... here, in the United States. I think it's that. The, or what I mean is, "my world" is falling apart. I hate it! I looked for "the dream", maybe not long enough, but I did look for "the dream." I can't blame anyone. I do not want to. I am just "me" and always will be "me." What was I even looking for? Why so many directions? Why so many choices? I think I know what I am missing, "family." I went wrong when I thought I would find success and then start a "family." I forgot all about the "family" I grew up in. I forgot that there was a time clock on how long we live. I forgot I was 40 years younger than my dad and 32 years younger than my mom. I forgot my kids won't have a grandma and grandpa. I forgot I wouldn't have a mom and dad. I forgot I wouldn't have a home to come home to if I needed to. My mistakes gave me opportunities, but I feel selfish. I found no reward to share. I had big dreams of fame and fortune. If I quit now, for sure the end of the game. If I keep going, the pain comes too. I don't know what else to do other than the road I have chosen. I hurt now because in your eyes I am "the dream" and in my eyes I am in pain. I went to the doctor to ask if I am insane. 300 million people and only myself I blame.

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    am2anangel commented on On a Napkin... I write...

    06-25-2009

    excellent work. You paint a vivid image with your words. A vision of realization and acceptance that you can only blame yourself for how and where your life takes you. I enjoy your writing style it draws the reader in. As if sitting down for a good story you've anxiously been awaiting.
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    uspslady commented on On a Napkin... I write...

    04-07-2009

    Great work chad! Your work is mesmerizing!
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    WickedAngel commented on On a Napkin... I write...

    04-05-2009

    I love it. Very EMO---which I am so into.
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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    chadallac74’s Poems (46)

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