*Author’s note: This is technically a repost of a poem I initially didn’t feel ready to share. I finally found the courage to permanently blog it (a special thanks to Kae for motivating me). Hopefully, this inspires others to do the same with their own art. Let go of the shame, guilt, and self-hate. Love is all we got in this crazy world that’s on the brink. – Jon

My father
Insists I am useless,

To which my reply
Is silence –

For his truth
Warrants never responding
Proving failure
Has followed these words:

Shitty poems
Which no one will read,

And feats
I can barely accomplish,

Like jobs not held
Blaming laziness
Letting nervousness
Define all life.

I often believe
Work is sin
Since trying too hard
Remains futile
When breathing itself
Becomes painful
And worrisome
Knowing death waits.

But craziness
Always agrees,

For success deludes
Our perceptions
Most normal folk use
Leaving legacies
Better spent now
Than secure.

Perhaps I’m inane
As they say,

An amateur
Displaying less talent
Than any dumb jerk
Sharing verses
Where a million posts
Go unseen.

People should love
Something real,

Well another man
Telling sad stories
Wishes God were here
Right besides him
As he narrates days
On his phone,

Between moments
Such shouting subsides

When the house settles down
Before sleeping

Each night while lights
Shine their radiance
Over darkened halls
Sighting ghosts

Under Christmas trees
Hanging too low

Among empty gifts
Wrapped in boxes

As if presents alone
Imply meaning
Despite what’s inside
Getting lost.

Phantoms wail
Those collective sighs
Before morning comes
Bearing witness
To mounting woes
I’ve collected
Just running away
With my thoughts.

I’m a child
Who has gotten too old

Wasting cash
With pretty expressions

Of a time long gone
Like the holidays
When family and friends
Were still here.

This must be
Fate obsolete –

An existence caught
Amid pauses.

Hopeless, dad,
Like you called me.

How the hell
Does my wife even stay?

• J. Pigno