Why can I barely feel the warm glow within me
That others see so clearly?
My motivation starts as a burst of flames,
Then simmers into nothing.

No matter how much I try to control it,
My mind escapes from its cage.
Wasting time thinking is as helpful
As judging a book before opening its page.

I gaze at the world around me
And so far im not impressed.
Closed minded, colorless people,
Content with conventional happiness.

But I am no better than the others
And perhaps I am the one to blame
Still searching for my never-ending passion
While expecting others to make a change.

Why should they?
My journey is never done.
This life of drifting intuitions
Isn’t meant for everyone.