Young, Intelligent, Fast Learner

The slow motions of life
Bore the unaccustomed eye
And the small pleasures
Of the day to day
Fall to the way side.
Where am I in the in-between, what shade of gray?
I am not neutral, I am the agitator.
I am in-between the in-between
And in-between me, there is a war.
Content was never a card I played well
Or so I have come to learn. Bliss, improbable
So that was never mine, either.
Discontent, it is my familiar, and becomes me well.
Discontent is the chase, it is adrenaline
Energy, all potential
A ball pausing at the top of a steep hill.
I fall well, but cannot seem
To ride it out and see it through.
And what is it? I don’t know.
The object of my discontent.
It is my mind, it is my anger
It is this masochistic tendency
To sever the deepest chords of emotions inside of me
And burn calluses onto their soft skins.
All these falls, these ups these downs,
This unaccustomed eye grows bored
With the speed of life
Or lack thereof.