They say to fake it 'til you make it
and I'm just wonder when...
I don't think that I can take it,
despite the release of my pen.

I try to shrug off the pressures,
the stress, and the constant insanity;
I try to see life as a treasure,
but it constantly is taunting me.

I want to be the person who smiles
no matter the trouble that's tossed my way,
but all these problems make a mile
and I am too tired by the end of the day.

Barely holding my head above water,
it seems ridiculous to keep swimming.
Yet, when I think about my father,
I've got to fight, regardless of winning.

My smile may grow weary
and my feet may drag after time,
waiting to "make it", you see.
And hopefully, I don't lose my mind.