Why do I even bother listening to the music. Why do I even bother finding the words. Why should I ever try, given that everything I do ends in failure. I will never be him. I will never be like him. And I cannot be him for you. I know that I am not passionate, I am not exciting, I am in fact very plain. And it doesn't matter that being plain would mean stability. It doesn't matter that all he leaves in his wake are ashes. Why does it ever matter, if all the flowers I have ever planted are fated to die. Tell me, give me a reason why I should care. I am mired in my mediocrity, stuck with myself. I used to think I was lost somehow, That no, No there is a place for me out there. I take that back, I thought there must be a place for me. Well I guess that I was wrong. Everyone keeps telling me what I deserve, But I can't help but think that they are lying. So I am left to my aches and my longings. Left to watch my garden never grow.