Disappointment
Disappointment is familiar.
Disappointment is safe.
Disappointment is consistent.
It welcomes me once again into its beckoning arms,
wiping my tears,
sheltering me from the winds of trying
of attempt
of accomplishment.
Strapping on my blindfold I am told
that Success is optional.
Their words aren't new.
New is frightening.
New is dark.
Disappointment is bright.
I can see only me and no one else.
It's tree bears no shade,
only fruit.
The fruit, though bitter, is plentiful.
The vine of Success grows sweetest,
but in small numbers.
Disappointment shuns no one.
Disappointment is safe,
it's always there.
Disappointment loves.
It guarentees satisfaction with only one condition,
its fruit speaks.
It screams, bringing voices like crows'
to claw at your confidence.
Disappointment doesn't allow confidence.
Only desperation to cling on to like a lifeboat
in a cloudy sea, moaning criticism and regret.
The fruit is drugged with pity.
Pity is a drug.
Attention is a drug.
Dissapointment gives you what you need
and takes the unnecessary from you.
Most days I succumb to Disappointment.
As I consume its fruit I gaze at the shining tree of Success,
its tenants glowing an smiling,
basking in the glow of the one thing Disappointment doesn't offer.
Hope.
Disappointment is safe.
Disappointment is consistent.
It welcomes me once again into its beckoning arms,
wiping my tears,
sheltering me from the winds of trying
of attempt
of accomplishment.
Strapping on my blindfold I am told
that Success is optional.
Their words aren't new.
New is frightening.
New is dark.
Disappointment is bright.
I can see only me and no one else.
It's tree bears no shade,
only fruit.
The fruit, though bitter, is plentiful.
The vine of Success grows sweetest,
but in small numbers.
Disappointment shuns no one.
Disappointment is safe,
it's always there.
Disappointment loves.
It guarentees satisfaction with only one condition,
its fruit speaks.
It screams, bringing voices like crows'
to claw at your confidence.
Disappointment doesn't allow confidence.
Only desperation to cling on to like a lifeboat
in a cloudy sea, moaning criticism and regret.
The fruit is drugged with pity.
Pity is a drug.
Attention is a drug.
Dissapointment gives you what you need
and takes the unnecessary from you.
Most days I succumb to Disappointment.
As I consume its fruit I gaze at the shining tree of Success,
its tenants glowing an smiling,
basking in the glow of the one thing Disappointment doesn't offer.
Hope.
♠ ♠ ♠
This poem states what most people don't see. Disappointment is a choice. Many people see sad people and think they are unfortunate, when really disappointment is comforting. If you are so used to trying and failing and feeling disappointed then disappointment isn't foreign. Instead of giving yourself up to trying, it is much easier to give up and accept the fact that trying doesn't work. I'm not suggesting that giving up is the right answer, but it is the most comfortable, the most familiar. In my poem I hope you picked up on my symbolism, I capitalized Disappointment and Success to make them seem godlike, like a higher power or influence that we all must submit to.