I’m with you till the end of the line.
~Steve Rogers
Red;
The color of passion, yet blood.
White;
The color of goodness, but also representing blankness.
Blue;
The color of calm and wise, but synonymous with sadness.
Dual embodiments duel for dominance in a torn body.
Fingers twitch with the need to write something,
but the itch to give up lies beneath.
My heart reaches for those around me who need someone,
but some days I need anyone.
I have the world at my fingertips,
but my eyes fill with the ocean, blurring the future.
A battle between two lives that aren’t sustainable together.
Striving to find a path,
Yet falling short by a pull to just do nothing, be nothing.
Considering the idea of a service year,
but am told to think about how that relates to what I want to do.
Knowing that I want to write in any capacity for work,
and not achieving that because I’m plagued by rapid thoughts of self-doubt.
A constant tug-of-war between ideal and reality.
Throughout this long engagement,
there is a source of light that shines bright in my corner.
An entity that lets me know I’m not alone,
Even though I see through a blue tint.
Channeling through my bloodstream is
Captain America’s strength.
Each punch is a tap on my keyboard
as I resist against everything fighting me.
While he fights on a larger scale and plain,
my struggle slides along ridges of thoughts and actions.
Even as I block an electron with vibranium
coated in red, white and blue,
some charge still reaches me.
Shaky legs grapple for friction,
but the shield grounds me.
Even in my mindscape hurtling fire,
I know that I don’t stand alone.
developingpoet 