I want to be one of those bright people
Want to sparkle, want to shine
To say some words in the right order
Stir some souls to action
Or to beauty
Or to anything, really
That'll get remembered I'm just
Trying to leave something behind
But I'll never sing a song
Or own a stage
Never quite master a page
I cuss too much
And wasn't born nearly beautiful enough
I might be just ******* average
I might just have to ******* live with that
My culture is a vulture
She never feeds me
She steals all the good poems I try to write, says it's because
She only feeds on scraps
My scar tissue doesn't form any interesting shapes
It just stretches it's way across all the things I want to give my heart to
Shameless and afraid
Trust me, I'm aware of this ego trap, I don't really live here but
I built it myself, and it's a nice little home where I keep all my three-legged pets
They come out when I'm low and scuttle around my head, pointing out all the beautiful people my age
Who have already Done Something
Who have found their voices and changed people's lives
Or shredded their cards and headed out
Who have painted themselves onto canvases of every size
Who right now are probably somewhere that smells really good and has nice lighting, looking intolerably beautiful in the glow of some god ****** sunrise, lost in the mystery of creating things
Not sitting here, thinking like this