Lost In Translation

I think you are the hardest prompt I ever attempted

but yet many will definitely consider you as the easiest.

I usually have you all polished roughly by Monday

but now my page still lay bare without you.

I read another’s entry,  moved to tears and

guilt because of what I have inside.

I  wrote a post,  raw, I password protected it

but even then my heart cried more,

so I deleted the post.

I did not want to write another but at the same time

I needed to write another.

Cogged by circumstances which I allowed to make me

ungratefully unthankful.

I sometimes detested the breath of life

so could you imagine my face at the mere mention of thanksgiving?

I am a lost cause, an art never flourishing yet decaying.

I am ungratefully unthankful, not as a boast

but a flame seconds away from losing a weak flame.

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Week 7 of Prompt Storm

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The Bad Seed

I am searching for you but you do not exist.
I am searching for something with you which does not exist.

I have a theory I am working on about me. The problem is ME.
Maybe, they are not the problem if everyone complains of me.

If one hundred Frenchmen were not wrong, then maybe a thousand Englishmen are right: I am the source of all mayhem.
They opened pandora’s box when they conceived me, where was Family Planning when I needed help.

What is the purpose of life simply to take a breath?
What is the purpose for dreams and foreword planning when the universe has plans to reject it all?

Why did you create me simply to act as a thorn in everyone’s flesh?
Why am I the sad news on everyone’s tongue?