I should be a writer, they said

I wish it was that easy

to make a living 

I could have been a contender, I thought

But I'm not athletic, or even built

like a sports star taking to the hoops

or a professional wrestler of my own demons

My demons ah,

my destiny lies

somewhere...

Cliche'  i bet

there's no such thing and

my american dream is an illusion

so why must i?

search for any job position by

sending a vast amount of resumes

hoping to obtain a job, but upon reception

before each time i'm rejected, I have to 

end up traveling harsh distances

just to find my way through life

day in and day out

I struggle with each consequence

my choices lead me to

and i end up getting

nowhere

Now

I could have been anything i wanted

Right?

But who am i 

why don't i think i'm capable

and why don't my already accomplished feats

seem like lofty heights

I may not be capable of reaching

Is there something wrong with the way i think

How i walk how i present myself 

how i act....does it matter

I'm not cut out for work

I'm not my own advocate

I don't need a job

I need a way out

of this never-ending rut

of finding a job

that probably isn't what i wanted in the first place

but then i'm scared that it may be what my destiny wanted

I know i write well

tech-savvy wise

data-entry is simple until

you're in competition with other

clerical ass sistants

so i'm either stuck 

being who i am 

or

who i am not

just because it's my destiny

So now i am nearing the expiration date of my poetic license

which i'm sure it will be soon

once i actually get a job i don't want but must have

and once again the rut of the cycle of life's imprisoned victims of society

carries on ...