I don’t know how to put it.
The impatience of always wanting more,
Its power is fierce and overwhelming.
I grieved for the excessive enthusiasm.
The unbridled cheer of youth.
Now I am greeted with cold tiles,
Dark rooms with no warmth.
On chilly mornings, there is no coffee to brew.
There is a distinct distaste that lingers,
Bitter and driven.
It twists my mouth in determination.
Deep, definite, distinct distaste.
With its claws down my throat, it keeps me awake.
With its fevered inspiration.
It whispered, “Change this.”.
It hissed, “The world is never good enough”.
“Make it better” it cries.
The words choke me.
