There a couple of things
I'm torn about
And they hark on my senses
Like, all the time
Even now as I write

I'm allowed to fail
I am
And bad days are normal
They are

These aren't excuses
Not to try to succeed
They are facts
That we constantly have
To contend with

It's the sort of thing I need
Framed,
On my bedroom wall
That to fail is normal
And bad days are allowed