Stress from the Busy Life

i’m extremely stressed, to be honest

constantly putting on a face every time dat’ i step out of the house

some days these masks i wear around become misplaced

i spend many of my days by myself

no friend, no lover, no pet

just i, Khali

accompanying me is this notebook and pen

i find myself sleeping alone every night

on pillows that are flatter than the

floor itself, i find that the wood is more

comfortable than my own mattress

i wake up and something is on my mind

someone is on my mind, but i have to be patient until

that person can come around

don’t know why, but i feel lost out here

feels like my efforts in this business

are going unnoticed, making all these moves for show it seems

people don’t understand what you have to put in to get something

out of this, all they do is assume and gawk at you

once your breakthrough comes around

mindlessly getting up to go to work

and school, taking orders that i really don’t want to take from anyone

however, i have to play devil’s advocate

so i can get to where i gotta get to

my workload catches up to me, believe it or not

i’m extremely stressed, to be honest

does anyone even ask how i’m doing any more

i doubt anyone cares bro

none of my old classmates from middle school

reach out to me, they haven’t done so since 2014

they’re all watching savage writer come to prominence,

so i assume they’re waiting to see if i fall or not

i see why they don’t like my posts at all on Facebook

keep on watching though

because i’ll die before i’ll fall

does anyone ever want to be around me for me?

are you around me because of my status,

don’t worry about my finances you greedy bastards

i talk about what people need from me too much, to the point that it’s now a cliché

enough of it, we ain’t got time for that foolishness today

i’m extremely stressed, to be honest

pressure becomes force

i force myself to make efforts even when i don’t want to

because i’m lacking that much enthusiasm

the drive is there, don’t get me wrong

however, my delivery is starting to fall flat

same crap i been writing as a teenager

becomes recurring themes in every poem that i put out

why even call myself a poet, to be honest

i ain’t talking about much

burnout is impending, i just don’t know when it’ll unfold

i’m extremely stressed, to be honest

lowkey…

i’m ready to give up