"The Eight Forms of Weakness"

The poetry collection titled “The Eight Forms of Weakness” was written to share personal perception, experience, and thoughts on eight different kinds of weakness every person experiences throughout t

Poetry Collection

“The Eight Forms of Weakness”

Written by Kendall Taylor

The Eight Forms of Weakness

“Anxiety”

My conscience whispers, 

the crudest of things. 

While they're stuck in my mind,

those thoughts take wing. 

I cannot find peace,

until those troublesome thoughts are gone. 

So I fight the battle,

until I have won. 

This takes my nights,

this takes my days,

I can't do one small thing,

without worry in the way. 

Not only me,

but this takes a toll on my friends. 

Watching me suffer,

as the worry ascends. 

I lead the easiest of lives,

with no real challenges to face. 

No debt in my name,

or struggles to debase. 

Yet a devil sits on my shoulder,

one my mind has created. 

He has my tongue tied in a knot,

and my soul capsulated.

“Jealousy”

I yearn. 

Not for worldly things,

they cannot bring,

the peace that stillness does. 

I wake up with a week-long agenda,

in everything I do I must already be preparing for the next task at hand. 

Never unplanned,

my life doesn't feel like my own. 

Nobody knows that I have envy. 

It is so strong,

it has been burning for so long.

But this world cannot understand me. 

It grows as I watch the finches,

sitting on the power line. 

Their life is theirs unlike mine. 

I feel funneled into a box that is not my shape. 

My spirit longs for quietude,

the simplicity of birds,

makes me feel unheard,

when I am asking to slow down. 

This earth is so fast-paced,

I want to be still. 

I need to fulfill,

the hole this envy is burning in me.

“Obsession”

Sitting here watching the sun set,

my arm around her. 

Please never end,

I want to stay here forever. 

I could listen to your voice for hours,

I wish mine sounded more like yours. 

I'm so sure,

that you're the only one for me. 

Your stories never bore me,

I want to hear them a thousand times. 

You and I,

are meant to be. 

I only dress in green and in blue,

because those are your favorite colors. 

Just like your mother,

who only wears white on Sundays. 

I listen to rock now,

contemporary isn't interesting anymore. 

I can't ignore,

those pretty green eyes from the passenger's side. 

I know your imaginary childhood friend, 

he didn't like your brother. 

There are so many other,

things I need to learn about you. 

The world seems dull, 

when i'm in your presence. 

You are a tenant,

forever in my mind.  

I lack the strength to be away from you,

in body and mind. 

I am now blind,

to what makes me myself.

“People Pleasing”

I am viewed as a fund,

for a helping hand. 

I cannot remember the last time that I said,

"I'm sorry, but I can’t.”

When i'm in need,

no one comes to my side. 

Nobody puts off their plans,

like I do with mine. 

This is a fault,

that I cannot escape. 

I can't help myself,

when I need to be saved. 

It's a subconscious distraction,

of that i'm aware. 

In order to put myself first,

I have to forbear. 

I get a new request,

most every day. 

My mind says to leave,

yet my heart says to stay.

I cannot decline,

it's tearing me apart. 

Everyone knows, 

you are not to tamper with matters of the heart. 

“Disloyalty”

During the day,

I'm right by his side. 

But once he falls asleep,

I'm quick on my way. 

Sometimes just drinks,

sometimes it’s more. 

It can start from coy smiles,

it can start with a wink. 

I feel no shame, 

in this secret of mine. 

My love is my own,

no one’s to claim. 

He isn’t the reason,

my heart is this way. 

It seems my being was created,

not to be imprisoned. 

I try to feel remorse,

and that failure provides shame. 

Yet I've learned from it still,

guilt isn’t something you can force. 

“Addiction”

My body trembles when I don’t get enough,

but I can stop whenever I want. 

I choose this. 

This is my bliss. 

My friends have plans without me,

but I’m not lonely. 

I’d much rather be here,

like this. 

I would take the dog to walk,

but there are throngs of people who will gawk. 

It is my life and I will do as I please,

I can do without their judging me. 

Why do I need money for food,

when my body misconstrues

my hunger for relief,

for my hunger for lunch?

I need to feel it in my body,

I can feel a rage bubbling up already. 

All I care about is feeling okay,

I’ll do whatever it takes to make this go away. 

All I can think of is experiencing it,

I have to submit. 

I can’t hold out any longer. 

My body tenses against my will. 

A wave of calm washes over my mind,

just then reality and awareness align. 

This isn’t my choice and it’s out of my hands,

My conscious felt weak and I could no longer stand. 

“Old Age”

My grip is weak. 

I cannot hold my cup to my lips anymore. 

My hair is thinning,

my skin is eyesore. 

My sons and daughters,

they’ve forgotten about me. 

I’m trapped in a prison

of dayrooms and fees. 

My voice cracks when I speak,

though I hardly ever use it. 

I’ve no one to talk to, 

so it stays awfully quiet. 

I hold no value,

to these caretakers of mine.

I do the same thing every day,

from 9:00 until 9:00. 

I sit here and rot,

because that’s what sick people do. 

They wait until you die,

and then they recycle your room. 

“Perfectionism”

Everything matters,

everything counts. 

It has to be perfect,

down to the ounce. 

If you don’t get this right,

it’ll haunt you forever. 

You can accomplish mediocre,

but you can always do it better. 

You are your own greatest critic,

but of that you are unaware. 

You overthink what you say,

you overthink what you wear. 

Your mind is always going,

a thousand miles per minute. 

it feels like you’re drowning. 

you struggle to finish. 

You strive for perfection,

it doesn’t matter what it takes. 

You’ll pile your workload onto your plate,

and you’ll pile it until it breaks. 

Author's Note

The poetry collection titled “The Eight Forms of Weakness” was written to share personal perception, experience, and thoughts on eight different kinds of weakness every person experiences throughout their lifetime. I came up with this idea hoping it would be unique due to the fact that dark topics can be described in a beautiful way. My goal with these poems was to have one work that almost anyone could relate to, no matter who or where they would come from. There are simple topics such as aging, but also deep and introspective topics such as mental health issues. This collection is 7 pages typed, including a cover page. My ideal audience would be anyone who has experienced the topics of each poem, which is one of the key factors that sets my piece apart. The collection discusses topics that occur over a lifetime, so it targets audiences of all ages and backgrounds. I feel confident that out of the hundreds of people that would potentially read/respond to my collection, there would be at least one person who feels acknowledged after reading it. And because of that, it makes the criticism and adverse (thoughts that are bound to come with the output of creativity) worth it wholly.
I am submitting this for a highschool English class project.