Acedemics, I have some
Control
Art, they say I’m good
They say I’m smart
Acedemically

What if the world was controlled by
Athleticism?

Or,
Social skills?
Which it partially is


But,
I’m smart
I’m talented
I tell myself
Yet-

There’s so much-
I keep myself from
Let myself
Be intimidated by


The supposed
Best years of my life
More like

I’m

Holding

Myself





Back




Am I?
Am I really?


I look at those
Worse than me

And I feel secure


I look at those
Better
A seemingly larger majority


And that security unravels
Like a shriveled up plant

I’m
I
I
Iiiiiii
What

It’s scccccintimmmmidate-

I dunno
Why am I in such a mood?

Hopeless,
Am I?

If I can’t even,
Get the one think I’m good at right
What,
Can I do?