That I had failed in the past is certain, or is it really so,
If that door wasn't jammed tight, could I have chanced upon this door?
Do I get defined by that moment, or what unfolded afterwards,
Are victory and defeat engraved, or merely pretentious words?
That I'll succeed in the future is doubtful, I know for a fact I'll fail,
If I keep repeating the crime, how long can I remain on bail?
Do I get defined by the sentence, or the grace I show in jail,
Do I keep pushing the boulder uphill, though no one will sing my tale?
That I'm failing in the present is unclear; it depends on whether I can get through,
If I can paint what might have happened, what will happen, and what's currently true.
Do I get defined by these 14 lines, or can you beneath my facade see,
Whether I'm in flow and enjoying this connection, or struggling to break free.
When I write a poem, I'm simultaneously alive and dead,
Don't know if I've failed again, till I am by you, my reader, read.
No comments:
Post a Comment