Are things simple
And I’m over-complicating them?
Or are things complicated
And I’m over-simplifying them.

There is right
And there is wrong.
Simple.
That is, until you meet humanity.
Right things seem wrong,
And wrong things seem right.
No one knows
What is right and wrong anymore.
Where’s the manual?
I think the world is broken.

I feel to much.
Oh, it feels wrong to say that,
But logically, it could be true.
I tend to let my feelings
Get in the way
Of thinking.
But it feels to wrong
To not let myself feel.
But it seems the only way
To not make mistakes
Is to not feel.
I have been taught
To feel, but not to much.
Or to take a stand, but only if it’s uncontroversial.
They say be yourself, but only if your are normal.
Society tells me that no one can be perfect,
While also telling me to not make mistakes.
What do I do?
Which is right?

I know
That there is no one to blame
But myself.
But I feel like
It is wrong
To put all the blame on me.
It might just be
Because I am myself,
And I do not wish to be the problem.
But it is the truth.
I am the problem.
Is it justified
To believe I am at fault
And to believe I am the problem
When I am?

I know.
All of my poems
Are just excuses.
You keep on saying that:
“Stop making excuses!”
I know I made a mistake.
I wish I didn’t.
You are the very person
Who taught me mistakes are bad,
Whether it was directly or indirectly.
And I believed you.
I keep on trying to justify my mistakes.
I’m sorry.
I know I made a bad choice.
But I guess I’m in denial
That I made a mistake
‘Cause didn’t you say mistakes are bad?

You say you don’t expect perfect,
But I think you’re lying.
Because
You expect a child
That makes minimal to no mistakes.
Isn’t that what perfect is?
You expect a child that gives you no troubles.
That is
I guess
The “perfect” child.
Alas, I cannot be perfect.
I am a very troublesome child.
I wish I could mistake-less.
But apparently that’s not how that works.

I’m running out of time
And I’m feeling kind of worried.
Then I’m like,
“Hey me, stop worrying!”
And somehow
I worry
That I’m worrying,
Because I know that worrying won’t help me.
But I’m worrying,
And that is bad,
Because I have always been told
To stop worrying.
Oh, but now I can’t stop worrying
Because you told me to stop worrying
And now I can’t stop worrying
About the fact I am worrying.