Is anybody out there?
I’m trapped in here you see.
I’ve got everything that I could want,
but it’s not enough for me.
I don’t care about the carpets,
the curtains and the crystal.
I’m reading shocking headlines,
and wondering if I need a pistol.
It’s not that I have had enough
of life and all it’s things.
It’s just that I feel wasted.
I’ve a song my voice can’t sing.
If I could only find my target,
I might shoot it off the wall.
Find some focus for my passion,
pull the trigger and watch it fall.
I could search amongst the pieces,
shards of bullet blistered spill.
I could pan for gold and diamonds,
But my trigger’s rusted still.
I shout into the void,
but an echo does not come
Is it inspiration I’m calling for?
Inspiration I’m running from?
What if I found a moment
or a special sip of colour
that could brighten up the boredom,
stop my mind from growing duller?
Would I work to sculpt a masterpiece,
or craft only pulp and dribble?
Would I push past my rough edges
or languish in the middle?
Perhaps that’s what I’m scared of?
Perhaps I’m tired of the slow pace?
Of the benign and the degenerate
ever clouding up the space.
I only wish to contribute
and share a broader view.
Not blink at endless selfies
I’m bored here, how about you?
by Vanessa Matthews