The things I can do

I can spend hours listening to my conscience and still not be impressed.
I can decide if I want to die but can’t choose clothes without bein stressed.
I can wish on the moon or the brightest of all stars, for me it’s the sun.
I can promise the world, with all of its glory, and still nothing gets done.
I can sit at the base of the world, ponder the philosophies of Voltaire.
I can sympathize with the characters of a movie but in life wouldn’t care.
I can carve meaningless lyrics deep into my arm just to feel blood trickle.
I can stand by my words and accuse the world of being fickle.
I can believe in anything I want, god, devil, and religion or just be agnostic.
I can be audacious, rude, cuss, curse, cause mayhem with a tongue that’s caustic.
I can write poems which no one will read, which dissolve into mediocrity.
I can pretend I am someone important, goddess of some celestial city.
I can wait for my life to start while I search for an unseen conclusion.
I can seem proud, strong and confidant but it’s merely an illusion.
I can take the road less travelled by and at the end meet Robert Frost.
I can live like love is everything and scream when love is lost.