I had a task in Creative Writing class to imagine myself as a person of opposite sex and different age, but with my fears and write a poem from this person’s perspective. Here I am a 33 years old man whose fear is that he might have chosen a wrong path in life.
The pillow’s softness’s hard on me
Because it ceases in the morning.
As I’ll wake up and I shall see
Consequences of mother’s warning.
The cruel truth that got me baffled,
To make good art you have to suffer.
When I was young,
I wasn’t smartest,
Perhaps that’s why
I am an artist.
I followed Bradbury’s advice
And just kept swimming.
Though drowned twice,
I resurrected and continued.
Did I choose wrong the path of life?
No stable job, no son, no wife.
A man of Balzac’s age is pity
1/3 of life’s behind my shoulder
And not much changed – I just got older.
Solution doesn’t come that easy,
I have to stop with making art,
Just as the pillow’s softness ceases.