I’m trying but you still cannot see,
I’m trying to be the best I can be,
I’m trying but my voice remains unheard,
I am instead muted such as that of a hunted herd.
I am not aimless with my illustrations,
Albeit that this creativity is fuelled by frustrations,
Irony becomes apparent in the finality,
Creation out of frustration, but frustration is the ending reality,
As words go unread,
Voice has nothing said,
And my physicality is dead,
Dead as my other attributes as one continues to fruitlessly strive,
Morale-bruising blackened like the skin of a banana fruit as I sit in strife.
I’m trying! but that which others see as my successes, I see as failures,
Trying to emancipate myself from mental slavery like the wailers,
I scream in the face of success!
All but crying in attempt to progress my quest,
BUT..
Success turns its’ back on me,
However I continue to coarsen my throat in plea.
I’ve tried but you did not see,
I tried but there is no best part of me,
I tried but my voice will never be heard,
I’ve tried but I have to succumb to the fact that my attainment is absurd!
