Poem by Jenny Ing

Rough Day Today
Information flows in constantly, digitally, verbally
Bombardment of advice, remedies, know-hows, somehow.
Overload to the point of spillage
The psyche can no longer contain

Don’t cry, don’t cry
Don’t cry

He said, she said, they said
I say. Who said?

Should dos, must dos, have tos

Voice unheard, words lost
To some lonely abyss
The soul dragged through the murky waters of society
Stunned by the fear of an impending
Checkmate

No, fuck you.

There is no should
There is no spoon

There is only the truest of true.

Strip away the wants, the should haves
Strip away the charadic Bullshit,
The suffocating facades.

For when you are on your deathbed
What questions will you ask

Did I work enough, did I slave enough,
Did I fight enough, did I bleed enough

Or did I love enough?

Do what you love, love what you do.

The choice is ours.
And I am thankful for that.

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Just write

I was woken up by my bladder and now I don’t want to sleep; the night too peaceful to waste, the sound of the ticking clock too soothing to ignore. For the darkest hour of the night is almost past, so I eagerly await the dawn.