I am just a shell,
Of who I was, once before,
Which in itself, was a shell too,
Of the man I could have always been,
To think of all I could have done,
All I could have accomplished then,
And the possibilities I’m not doing now,
A bitter regret as it first goes down,
Nausea blended with uneasiness,
Followed by an overwhelming,
Polarizing urge to change,
And I’ll feel good, while the feelings fresh and new,
But soon the warranty will expire,
And I’ll go back to doing what I do best,
Stagnancy and procrastination,
As the new found arc travels
From regret to desire to afterthought
And back to regret one more time,
All my life I’ve hunt and pecked,
For that slightest etch,
A life altering epiphany,
Some free flowing cosmic offering,
But now as it stands before me,
Staring, begging, encouraging,
I pause, I quake,
I sweat and shake,
I wait, I delay,
I approach then stop,
A nervous, delirious response,
I’m right there, and yet I’m still here,
Immobile and In hesitation,
Can’t disappoint, can’t make mistakes,
If you forgo action and walk away,
Step to step, fully knowing,
The hands would move too fast,
But nonetheless help I wouldn’t ask,
I’d know the answer, yet I’d second guess myself,
And wind up choosing the empty shell
