Resentment

I have come to realize
In the past couple of days
As I attempt to turn life’s small everyday blessings
Into poetry
That it’s beginning to feel like an obligation
Like something that
I have to do
Instead of something
That I want to do.
I delay and delay
I procrastinate and resent it
Until suddenly thirty minutes to midnight rolls around.
I rush to think of
And write about something,
Anything
In a few half-baked lines.
I don’t like the pressure
I rebel against it.
I sigh and post the poem that I know
Is not even half an attempt
To discover and define a true
And wonderful blessing.
I wonder if I should stop
I wonder if I need to…

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