What Should I Do?

I'm GRATEFUL TO GOD, but I feel indebted.

It's as though God didn't give me life, but lent me this life to use temporarily and return it back.

The funny thing is that time is going, and my excuses are no longer making sense.

Generations are awaiting my QUICK actions.

Being scared is for children, like Comr Kalu Peter I will always say.

But waiting for a saviour looks like waiting for enslavement.

Running from responsibility is like running into a pit with my two naked eyes.

Crossing my legs, reading and overthinking, is like drinking poison with a straw.

Wondering what if they say no or don’t like my idea,

Is like saying I want to propose to a woman without saying a word to her,

Or even asking for the first date.

Remembering my past haunts me like a tiger ??...

But the voice in me is scared of the tiger and also scared of the solution.

The droums will play for ACTION every five minutes,

But they will also play for SAFETY, COMFORT, and CONFUSION for a full hour.

I know I can grow wings if I first just jump off the cliff,

But the story of failed attempts always superimposes that of possibilities in my head.

Even if I shout the AFFIRMATION and wake my neighbours right now,

The next minute, fear of the past will serve my active brain a quick notification.

Whose voice is this?

Who installed them?

Who can uninstall them?

God's word should—but no enough space—

And if I file it like a memory card into my head,

The virus called poverty will affect it before you click open.

Can anyone feel the slightest pain in my mind,

Or is it locked up with a smiling face and religious words like "IT'S WELL,"

"BY HIS GRACE," "GOD WILL DO IT," "ONE DAY WILL COME"?

I know of religious fellows whose obituary has the same inscription

As the one they wrote on their doors while alive.

Should I just do what my five-minute mind is whispering?

Or hang around and keep waiting for the right time, or "GOD'S WILL," "GOD'S TIME"?

Wait, what happened to the man who named his son "God's time is the best"?

Could it be that the visiting voice is telling me about God's time?

Should I still listen to that old man who taught me during Sunday school in the '90s,

But died in poverty?

Should I just look for a safer career and submit my CV to my boss for life imprisonment?

What if I just watch one more comedy and kill this never-ending youthful age?

Guys, these thoughts are killing.

Someone help!!!

Wait —don’t try to help me if you’re not listening to your own visiting voice.

If your landlord is that loud, scary voice, don’t talk.

Because my own landlord (the loud voice) will inform yours, and you won’t sleep in peace

Unless you bribe him with three bottles of cold beer and a seasonal movie.

Hi! Please talk to me now because it seems you've listened to your voice,

And your life is now making sense.

Mr Nis 2am sleepless night thought poem.

This is my very first Poem as an adult... what do you think?

Please let me know on the comment session