All the spend and can't be satisfied.
Never content with your work.
People ask what are you working on and you hide it as if it were classified.

Why can't it be perfect like a sunset on the seaside?
Working constantly like a dork.
All the hours spend and can't be satisfied.

Countless revision o a point when it looks magnified.
To release the stress and frustration take of the cork.
Unknown amount of failed attempts in secret folders remain classified.

I’m going to explode, people look terrified.
My hand gets closer to the nearest fork.
I cope with my anger by eat but no to be satisfied.

Unable to move I sit there stonefied.
Maybe there’s a perk.
That I may learn from what I have classified.

Inspirations hit allowing words to materialize.
On my face grew a smirk.
All the hours spend and can't be satisfied.
Unlock the dormant thoughts so nothing can be classified.