Poetry and Rant about the Downfalls of Freelancing

Magnet.

"Mother, stay still," commands the magnet.
"My force is unlike any detachable weight.
Your body already already fits your casket.

Sparks of hope will arise and then fade.
Overshadowed, devoured, by inevitable fate.
You know that your labor is scarcely repaid."

The dusty brass scales have an uneven tilt.
But why are you the only one who is late?
Through disappointment, frustration, the magnet was built.

"Blame others. Blame yourself. But do not blame me.
You nurtured me daily, you carved this slate.
Now you can't lift a finger. You can only see."

Eyes open, eyes closed, eyes covered.
You know that they pass through the locked, guarded gate.
Surely, they have also suffered?

The welding of steel, the melting of glue.
A thousand nails removed from a thick wooden plank.
These tasks are nothing, to someone like you.
Progression is a switch; destruction is too.



Thank you for reading :)

I'm no expert poet by any means. However I feel this would be a healthy method to communicate distracting feelings in a creative way, without burdening anybody else. (sorry if you found it depressing lol). I'm actually a super happy person, but I need to vent negative emotions sometimes. I suppose this poem could be interpreted in many ways, but for me it is about lack of motivation, due to being let down or treated unfairly when you work around the clock for minimal pay. I'm a freelance artist, but this year I have repeatedly been let down by clients, particularly recently during my busy christmas period. Some cancelled commissions due to changing their occupations, or occupational plans. Others have cancelled portraits meant for christmas presents, due to breaking up or falling out with the person they are for. All Freelance artists are on occasion asked to work for free, or for far less than minimum wage, when we have studied, worked hard, and gotten ourselves into debt to hone our craft.

My design work is no longer fun for me, I haven't taken on commissions since the last cancellation. Yes I should have taken deposits, yes I should learn to be stricter and demand payments for cancelled work, but so many of my clients are friends-of-friends, or people I genuinely trust, I guess I am just too naive for this profession. When I see people who dropped out of school with bad grades, earning 10x what I earn in a year, at a job which takes no training and causes little stress, I feel like everything I have done has been for nothing. Money does not mean a lot to me, I would just like enough to pay the rent and live off without having to stress and struggle. Jobs in my area are so much more scarce now than they were when we finished High School, and I feel as though I should have chosen a different path in life. My motivation is at an all time low, even just picking up a pencil makes me feel drained and miserable.

So yeah, that's what this poem is about. Please be nice to the artists and designers in your life, and before you ask one for free work, think - would you ask a plumber/electrician/construction worker for free work?

If you have the time, please let me know what you think of the poem itself - I don't mind harsh constructive criticism, being a designer, I appreciate people trying to help in any way they can.

Thank you, and sorry for the rant.