Progress. Progress?

Progress! Progress? Progress.

 

Your enthusiasm grows steadily less

And I’m watching you

With held breath

Waiting for the moment you realise

You hate everything

I stand for.

 

Progress.

 

And my hands are clenched

Into fists

And my fists

Jammed between my knees

To prevent myself

From lashing out...

                But at what?

                Myself?

 

Progress.

 

‘What is life

Without forward movement?’

I ask

And you answer:

 

Progress?

Reviews

[Beatrice Mars]

Your enthusiasm grows steadily less
And I’m watching you
With held breath

I love these lines, they just sound so good!

Love the whole poem, amazing, really simple, but you sense anger and resentment and resignment (if thats a word..) all at the same time..

[EMP]

this is reeeally good, there is again some really good imagery but more obvious this time and it's just as good, and the rhetorical questions that it seems to be asking the person in the poem and the reader... (if that makes sense) "to prevent myself from lashing out... but at what? myself?" ooft i like this lots and lots.