Here I Sit

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Abstract

one where I do so much and receive so little Or possibly it’s only that I think that I do too much and I reject all receipts because of the pressure</p><p id="cbe1">Here I sit Tired, but well-rested Confused, but focused A veritable pigpen of contradictions Each one standing alone and not knowing how to integrate Leaving me in this state of general unrest</p><p id="3607">I type words to free my mind and wonder if they make me feel better or worse, for having to write them I touch the surface of emotions and that’s far enough for me So I climb back into my shell and pull the top to bottom and I remain, upright</p><p id="3223">Sitting when others are walking Stagnant when others are moving Complacent when others are building Sad when others are ha

Options

ppy Here I sit the same as yesterday and the same as the day before Maybe I’m just a shadow</p><p id="db0f">© <a href="undefined">Jonathan Greene</a> 2019</p><p id="598b">If you liked this, you might like this as well:</p><div id="a7fb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-am-shades-of-gray-b828d2c25870"> <div> <div> <h2>I am Shades of Gray</h2> <div><h3>A Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*aR6TDZFGcDZaNUY0)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Poem

Here I sit Perplexed and languid My connection to the world through a screen Sorting through messages from people I know and people I don’t wondering if any of it is real

Maybe this is a computer simulation and I am a sim but then why can’t they make me just a couple notches happier? I mean, why is this my narrative? The one where I do so much and receive so little Or possibly it’s only that I think that I do too much and I reject all receipts because of the pressure

Here I sit Tired, but well-rested Confused, but focused A veritable pigpen of contradictions Each one standing alone and not knowing how to integrate Leaving me in this state of general unrest

I type words to free my mind and wonder if they make me feel better or worse, for having to write them I touch the surface of emotions and that’s far enough for me So I climb back into my shell and pull the top to bottom and I remain, upright

Sitting when others are walking Stagnant when others are moving Complacent when others are building Sad when others are happy Here I sit the same as yesterday and the same as the day before Maybe I’m just a shadow

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