Attendee Type
Masked Guest
Created
2025-02-23 19:07:26.451 -0600
Observation
The river of my efforts has grown stagnant
I can no longer convince myself that
I’ll carve a legacy through this bedrock
But deep down, I know
This muck is of my own making
It may be true that
I’ve put in all I can muster
Still, I don’t believe
I can clear the debris of my doubt
Quiet the whispers that taunt me, and
Rise from this sludge
I will
Stagnate here beneath this bustling canopy
I submit - Is there any current left in me?
Response 1
“I’ll get out of these trenches soon”
I once believed, but now I know
I’m not cut out for this game
But I’ve worked too damn hard to think
This mask was never mine to wear
Something inside me screams
“I’ll never get out of these trenches”
Response 2
They’re not ready to leave the nest
How could I conclude that
They’ll thrive in distant skies
Fact of the matter is
They’ll fall without me
And I can't imagine that
They'll find their own path
Yet I hope, in quiet moments
They’ll stay home forever