Adequate

I'm mired down by the musing of tall grass.
I'm so distraught over the simplistic hour's pass.
I'm overworked and so under control
I'm bored to death, and it's taking it's toll.

I feel like I could be so much more than adequate, for you, for me, for them. I could represent you in such a stronger light. I could create wonders in the mind with quick words and cut glances so sharp you might just die of anticpation. But I instead live a life riddled with simplicity. I am a humble creature, choosing not to ignore the work to be done, but to simply allow the world to take me.

I let my microcosm of space, this little corner of earth I call home, engulf me. My petty worries are nothing compared to those of the grander scheme. But I could never leave. Such work to be done. I don't think I'm any more or less happy or fulfilled than I could be. I just think that you deserve more. So I'm working on that too. Twelve noteboooks of songs to get enough cash so I can buy my way out of this town for everyone that I love.