Loco

I feel let down, angry, frustrated, lost.
Angry because I was let down.
Frustrated with my anger.
Lost within my frustration.
Let down by life.

Directionless.
I feel far from the truth,
Far from purpose.
We’re puppets of our destiny,
Slaves to our choices.
We’re circus people
Performing for each other.

The body follows the mind
In silent objection.
Like the conversation during a race,
It’s always the mind screaming.
That rush of adrenaline is good.
This one, not so much.

Now, when life hands you your apples.
Nothing to fight for,
Nothing to bleed for,
Are things meant to be worked on?
Or meant to fall together perfectly?
Another apple handed to you?
Poisoned apples.

I want direction.
I want purpose.
I want something to fight for.
I want to bleed.
Don’t hand me apples,
Hand me truth.