musings of a big world

I can't smile.
I can't move.
anything I do is
without interest.
I can't love.
I can't miss love
when it has not come along.
I can't finish
this poem.
and I certainly can't
give you a clever end
or a beautiful line of
colorful words like the
other writers have.
I guess what must come
in the end is not to
care about those readers
after all.
there aren't any.
just the essence of yourself
and your pride.
choked up on small thoughts
to an ever widening world.
watch as the world moves without you,
turning and turning on the wheel.
one would be selfish to think
he deserves more when in
the end, he is just a piece
of the turning wheel.
there are more better and more beautiful things.
if only one could so easily grasp it,
but not like this,
not like some cancer baby poet.