To Sing a Different Song, a Poem

Its a mindless job

where I can look like a slob.

All I do is click click click,

while the clock goes tick tick.

My brain starts to slip,

and then my mood takes a dip.

How can I focus on this anymore?

It's so much worse than just a chore.

It's stealing my soul,

if I left, maybe I could feel whole.

But I'm so tired of being rejected,

by algorithms that people neglected.

Does anyone even look at resumes anymore?

perhaps mine's just a bore.

I think I'll strike out on my own

adamant as a dog with a bone.

Sometimes I believe in me,

especially when I want most to be free.

Then the fear kicks in,

it gets under my skin.

But, here I'm wasting away,

I'm ready for a new day.

All I have is time on my hands,

While I sit here making no bands.

It lets my mind wander free,

much farther than it should be.

I'd much rather think about the weather.

Should I wear my denim or my leather?

Perhaps when it warms up soon,

the birds will sing a different tune.

And I can think of something better,

like how to be a go-getter.

But even my good thoughts slowly turn bad,

because of all this time that I've had

To think about where I went wrong.

Isn't it time to sing a different song?

I can tell now I've been obsessing,

on everything but what has me stressing.

But these wounds run so deep,

all these lessons I don't want to keep.

How much longer can I possibly wait, 

for responsibilities to be taken off my plate?

So that I can finally see,

what it's like when I just follow me?

I fear the time is drawing near,

to spread my wings away from here.

I really hope I know how to fly, 

but, surely, it's clear I've got to try.

I'm so tired of sitting here alone,

this place no longer feels like a home.

More like a cage I've locked myself in,

where I worry about what could've been. 

I need to make more art,

go out in the world and take part.

The longer I stay here the less I feel smart,

isn't it time to follow my heart?