I ask as I set my alarm
for another day of not knowing
Of to-ing and fro-ing
Between what makes me money
And what makes me joy.
For a pay cheque that pays neither.
What is my purpose?
I ask in the night
As I wait for the darkness to turn into light.
Hoping that someone out their might hear my request,
‘Cause I’ve got nothing left,
I’m burned out
Extinguished,
Nothing distinguished,
Between hope and anguish,
I hardly have found it.
My purpose is there,
No-one is stopping me,
I am stopping me.
I am stopping me
Because trying means hope
And hope gives you somewhere to fall.
And I’m scared to fall.
I’m scared to face myself in the mirror
Because it couldn’t be any clearer
What I need to do
Who I need to be
Who I am
And what I need to achieve.
I am a disappointment,
Unworthy of success,
The voices in my head they think they know best,
And I believe them.
I stop chasing dreams because my voices are more convincing,
Their words unmincing,
Undisputed,
Undiluted,
Unrefuted.
If I cover my ears they only get louder
As they repeat
And repeat
And repeat until I can not scream past their noise.
Their violence.
I’ll find my purpose,
If only to for silence.
Jennifer Pickering 