(no subject)
Every one says that I'm worried about things that have no importance;
They are no bigger than a speck on the carpet that only keen eyes may spot;
They must be telling me I have those eyes, for I search for this spot with certainty, That I,
Will indeed find it, and remove it from this carpet.
They tell me I've been keeping up with things, that are so hard to do, and they're proud;
They say motivation lies in my heart, and I pull it out always to keep myself going;
But what they fail to realise is that this motivation really is burried under a rock;
Not anything can pry it out. I have to use all my strength to dig it from the earth cavity where it lays, barren,
And then I have to push it into my heart, and that's when they say this,
That's when they whisper thoughts about my being, while I am in a different room,
They think I don't listen but I do. I feel their words deep into that part of my heart;
Sometimes it makes that motivation strike up, and begin pushing me forward;
It set a goal, and it's going to reach that, my ambition runs high;
Yet they view it as something I do nonchantly,
I don't think about. Yet they're wrong;
Every motivation or step I take, takes effort, and that's how it reamins, eternally.