Complacent?
With a heart so big but a brain so confused,
I cannot tell if I'm happy?
sad?
or just Complacent?
Do I need to get out there?
Do I need to try new things?
See the world?
Or do I like where I am?
Complacent?
My confusion has become my reality.
A never ending night mare,
The stress eating at me.
But I've become complacent.
The worrying has become a part of me,
eating, nawing at the very soul of me
asking me, "Are you Complacent?"
This poem is about:
Me
My family