Lost

I want to work and make a living
I want to be rich and do many big things
I ignore your needs and leave you hanging
If only I knew what I was doing

I want to go places and establish myself
I want my books to be on every possible shelf
I push you aside and act like you’re not even there
Now I regret you not being here.

My concern is to always put food on the table
I’m providing this much because I’m able
My focus has drifted far away from what matters most
Now, loneliness is the guest, and I’m its host

Business, Work, Flights and Meetings
Are my excuses for hurting your feelings
I no longer value my priceless possession
And this whole things seems like an illusion

“The house is not going to pay it’s own rent!”
Is the message I harshly sent
When you asked for more time and attention
In this state, its clear I’m the author of my confusion.

Like a leaf that has strayed and is now withered
I sit here dejected and undiscovered
I wait to wonder “What does success actually mean?”
For I have lost my all. My love, My self, My being.