Original Stress Poem

Hey guys! I wrote a poem for school recently, and I would like some feedback. I am very proud of it, but I need a positive opinion outside of my parents. Also, there are several hidden references. Let me know if you guys like it!



Life is quite simple.

If you’re determined enough,

You can reach your goals.

At least so it seems.

For some, it is just too tough

To follow their dreams.


Sometimes life can drive you crazy,

And for some people, the future’s hazy.

As you’re dancing through life,

You encounter some strife

Unless you’re incredibly lazy.

As for those who have enough ambition,

They try to obtain recognition

From the ones who they love,

Or those who rank above

And possess the ultimate decision.


If those all ‘round the world can plow through the pain,

And advance in society due to their brain,

Or the power, the courage, or will they possess,

And manage the seemingly infinite stress,

Then how come it always seems to inundate

The ones who maintain much more skill on their plate?

For you’d think the ones with more talents, or so it seems,

Would be better at achieving their hopes and dreams.

And the pressure they place on you, as you progress,

It adds to your stress and it makes you a mess,

Until you can barely manage at all.

And you wonder, “Is it really worth so much gall?

Or is the reputation I struggle to maintain

Even worth all the torture, the struggle, the strain,

That I place on myself to achieve for my name

Just a little bit more than my level of fame?”


And in trying to be the fastest, the smartest,

The strongest, the bravest, the very best artist,

You drive yourself crazy with every time

That those you look up to say, “Isn’t he so sublime?”

The drive for perfection, that endless old chase;

You know you’ll never win, but you don’t slow your pace.

Attempting to fight as justice’s sword,

And advance yourself further, obtain your reward.


Some simply stand by, saying, “This is absurd!

Somebody should make sure their feelings are heard!”

But that number is few, not nearly as much

As the ones who believe the opposite of such.


And as the lion roars out, calling your name,

Always the same type of game, with nobody to blame

Except yourself for the blunders and the errors and mistakes

And the crackling thunder rumbles, raising the stakes;

The burning inside you that would usually fade

Isn’t doused by the rain that the storm throws like a hurricane.

And nobody understands except you,

The torment and torture and tricks you’ve gone through,

And you try to suppress it, take it off of your mind,

But it only increases over that stretch of time,

Until it finally bursts and you let it all out,

With a shout, you’re without, but it leaves behind the doubt:

...

“Am I able to handle it?”

…

“Can I truly manage it?”

…

“Are all of those dear to me ready to be here for me?”

…

“Am I able to use my mind, and courage to respond in kind?”

…

“Have I reached the hardest test?”

…

“When I do, will I do my very best?”

…

“Am I ready to be strong?”

…

“Alright then. Game on.”

 

Thank you both so much!