No Need to Update

I write poems, I write songs,

all of the above.

It’s well-practiced,

and my means of introversion.

 

It’s absolutely insane

how my current situation confuses me,

because I write about it

all the time.

 

Always analyzing, never doing;

I’ve been over this before.

It hasn’t changed,

no need to update.

 

Yet I will, reminding myself

to push out; it won’t help.

Looking out,

but not piercing my own skin.

 

But if these words can bring me

all of my desires,

who’s to say

I’m keeping quiet?