April is National Poetry Month. This is one of the pieces I wrote in April 2018 to celebrate the occasion, the first one since I started writing poetry in November 2017.
I keep going and going and going.
Nothing will stop me; not even
the pins and needles in my arms
and the lack of hunger.
I am invincible, a perfectionist.
Ready to do and move on to the next
big project.
I tire but I do not nap. I flex
my muscles once in the morning
but do not exercise.
There is too much to do.
I’m known as the epitome
of overachievement.
I keep going and going.
I’ve been on the last eleven years
and nothing will stop me; not even
the dizziness of a life lived
in the fast lane, and the worry
that I’m not good enough.
I can’t let anyone see the raw.
I must be polished and inspiring.
I don’t understand down time;
work-life balance is a thing?
If I do nothing I am nothing.
And I must always be
something.
I keep going.
Or at least I will until
my world comes crashing
down.
I’m not weak; I can’t be.
This can’t be—the fear
and anxiety are finally
washing over me.
I’m not sure how much longer
I can keep it up.
But I’m going to until
I can no longer.
Until I fall and can’t get up.
Until I drown in the ocean
of hustle.
I can barely swim as it is—
it’s amazing how long I’ve lasted.