Purpose?

You know... I get lost inside my mind sometimes. 

And I’ve tried trailing the exit with my feathers, 

but if use them all… what will I write with?

Purpose…. Purpose… purpose

I’ve purposely lost sight of my passion

My penmanship is clashing with homework and pieces of my mind are falling

…and so is precious time…

I’m purposely procrastinating

Pondering and pondering about these goals splashing puddles

I mean poverty is just so hard to overpower

My pockets are picked

By poorer people by the masses, blaming the powerful

Maybe it’s their fault why I’ve lost my purpose

Perhaps it’s there, but I can’t pinpoint the beginning of the picture

I’ve cried rivers down my pillow

And pity pities my party of one

Just me, and my gun

Aim this pen at my solar plexus because putting puzzles with no pieces is easier then picking what’s next… to my purpose

No, I don’t know my purpose

I’m a pitfall of reversed prose and piling ideas over ideas providing no light to my prickly path

Pick me last, when you’re going to try to pull a prodigy out of my passive poems

I can’t process my purpose

I’ve pried into potholes of my mind

Why does it feel so pointless?

Putting pain on spiritual PEDESTALS

Pretending possession of my unprotected heart, I think I’ve been peer pressured out of my purpose

Painting the planet the color of my perspectives

I can't pick up pencils, they're all pointless, and pens are too permanent

My mind changes passively according to the position of my pixelated motivation- I feel like a prisoner, scraping pigeon shit... professionally

Professing false prayers until I've persuaded me I'm loving this... promoted purpose...

I can't find my purpose.

Check me out on Youtube... My pen performs too 

~Safiel Vonay