Miles of blank paper

I feel so pointless
like a pencil with no purpose
like a sub-optimal product
in an ineffective surplus.

The tide I started out with
has now rushed ahead without me.
I am drowning in the backwash
of this mediocrity.

The joy of helping others
someone's hope to carry through
I'm sure it is enthralling!
But that is not what I do.

To know there is one other
to share days with, one by one
To spew out genome copies with!
But that's not what I've done.

I find myself confounded
in normal conversation
when people ask me casually
"what is your occupation?"

"I learn for a living"
How silly is that sounding?
In a competitive world
this reply is most astounding.

Many do conclude, I know,
that I am just confused,
and the reason that I do this is
I know nothing else of use.

But the worst, the absolute worst -
is that nagging inner view,
that haunting, crazing question
"what if I suck at this too?"