I'm running on empty
The palette is dry, the pigments have thinned,
I’m casting my brush at a hollow wind.
I used to see visions in shades of the soul,
Now the canvas is fractured, losing control.
They stand in the gallery, cold and precise,
Naming the failure, assigning the price.
They measure my spirit by lines they define,
Tracing the edges of what isn’t mine.
And in their sharp gaze, the colors go gray—
The light in my fingers is fading away.
I’m running on empty, a ghost in the frame,
Tired of playing this critical game.
I’m searching for black, I’m searching for white,
But everything blurs in the dead of the night.
It isn’t a spectrum, it isn’t a choice,
It’s the quiet erosion of finding my voice.
How much is left? I’m starting to fray,
Holding the pieces together all day.
I paint for the mirror, I paint for the wall,
But I’m tired of standing, so ready to fall—
Not because I have lost how to see,
But because I am losing the version of me.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: June 4th, 2026 07:10
- Comment from author about the poem: Have you ever exerted utmost effort in every endeavor only to have one individual consistently criticize your actions, yet simultaneously praise one aspect while condemning another? How can you continually perpetuate negativity towards someone's efforts? When will this cycle cease? How am I enabling you to undermine my self-worth? Many people underestimate the potency of negativity. I am exhausted, and I feel I can no longer continue. This will be my final creative expression. This piece encapsulates everything I have struggled with and accomplished throughout my life. I can no longer identify as a creative person. I am a failure in all my pursuits.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments7
good write
This poem calls raw from the inner soul. It sets forth its message in good rhyme and meter flowing forth as an emptying of the vessel. It is a cry of exhaustion seeing past efforts as useless failures. Yet it so poetically expresses what it says is no longer there. Artists often do not see the value of their works and this is a good one. Very nicely written a fave
Aww, maybe just writers block for a while? But could be something deeper. I dry up at times with writing poems. Write away, as and when you feel a poem coming on. 🙂
The creative soul is always, always on the chopping block.
Friendship, this really hit me hard. There is such exhaustion in these lines…not just creative exhaustion, but the weariness that comes from feeling constantly measured and judged. I, too, know this weariness. The emotion feels raw and honest throughout. Powerful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Oh gentle Jesus I can relate to this. So many times we try something and feel that feeling of "why bother".Negativity rules the world and the only hope is to hide in a cave with a small fire to keep warm.
Imagine if you Imagined that individual who constantly criticizes you as someone completely different. What might happen?
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