Deviating from today’s prompt because it was a pretty busy day, thanks in advance for reading
xx
Oh, all the things you could be
If I wasn’t a mere fantast
Taking refuge in the solitary
Of my chamber.
The next Mona Lisa in the Louvre
Or the Bohemian Rapsody
Or the greatest film of all time, which was never made
Or maybe I’ll be the next William Wordsworth
And you, my muse
The vital to my soul
A Novocain to my pain
The yin to my yang
June to my Cash
But yet, here I sit
And decide to do noting
I learnt it the hard way
That potential isn’t a promise
If anything,
Potential, is the inception of a grandiose self-demolishing
For they said I got so much potential
So, I thought- I thought- I could just waste a little of them
Now, I got all wasted
Left with nothing
Watch everything slip away
Through my very fingers
In the desert of sand,
I am a quicksand
Hell bent on bringing everyone down
In the desert of water,
Atlantic would never had a chance with me
For I have Titanic at my bottom
I call it my home now
I live with sea monsters
In the form of every child’s imagination
I’ll pretend that I finally had peace
And bring desert storms
And thunderstorms
And every disaster
At my wake
I’ll particularly choose one fine beautiful morning
Take it world
This is what you get
For saying the word ‘potential’
I hope there’re ones like me
Who’d do the same
For the words: ‘hope’, ‘eternal love’
And the ultimate line,
‘It’s not you, it’s just me’
Because I know it’s definitely me
May all of us bring you down
I can already see us forming an army
Like the skeletons in the Triumph of Death
Maybe if they never said the word,
I would’ve been the one who painted it
And hang it next to the alleged next Mona Lisa that you’d be
In the Louvre