Fulfilled is a word Thrown around so flippantly, As though every worthy life decision Should achieve it immediately.
“But do they fulfil all your needs?”, “Do you leave feeling fulfilled?”, Questions we ask one another Because they have been socially instilled.
Would one ask a man, Begging for change on the side of the road, If he was fulfilled by his life Or if he’d stopped trying long ago.
In an era defined by the word more And driven by better and bigger; How does one pause, become stagnant, Look at their life and resist feeling bitter?
For me I am a fragile shell, With a gaping hole inside And everything I do to try and make me fulfilled Falls out the other side.