Someday never came.
And I'm not.
As smart.
Or handsome.
Or strong.
As I once thought I was.

Like these words.
I'm forced and poorly put together.
And I have no friends.
No spare lovers in my bedroom.

No life.

Just the constant isolation.
Years of distractions.
From this oh so scarred skin stretched taught over a wasted life.

And is it as clear to you.
As it is to me.

We're all just mediocre.

Hiding our faults with.
Tomorrow will be better.
Tomorrow I'll get there.

Tomorrow.
Everything.
Will.
Be.
Just.
Fine