I'm very good
At putting all my hopes and dreams
In someone else's hands
And watching them slip through
That persons fingers
Like sand
I'm clumsy and fragile
And I hate myself too much
To own up to my own desires

I'm very good
At making people fall in love with me
For the pure benefit of my ego
To make sure I have some kind of comfort left
At the end of the day
Because waking up and finding a reason to live
Is difficult, and most people I'm around
Don't understand that

Why the delay?
They ask
Hasn't it been like three years and you've done
Nothing?
Yes, I'm getting older
I'm getting braver though too
I'm easily impatient
They don't understand
I love too hard too fast  too soon
I give and give and give
And I lose, too.

I'm very good at hiding
The difficulty of days where it is
Physically impossible to get out of bed
And in the meantime,
Time is watching me from above
Adding up each failure and using
Other human beings to remind me
What I could potentially
Be throwing away
While I'm sitting here watching
A silent film about sand
Slipping through
Fingers running
Out of popcorn.