I don’t stand out because my clothes are on point
I am not memorable because my intellect is one of a kind
My speech and my gait wouldn’t be considered the best
And there’s nothing the world I can do better than the rest

My song's just simple enough to be overlooked
My presence often dismissed, rarely brooked
Ordinary are my thoughts, nothing ever so divine
My remembrance but a modest dot in the elaborate design

I am not so lousy either as to draw a lot of attention
Just adequate enough to probably win consolation
While my story may be generic, familiar and trife
I am appropriately average to be living my finest life

Poems I write
Nothing but alright
Average and lame
Everything's the same

There is no great mystery to life.
We do not all have some greater purpose
Or some all important place in this world.
Some of us are just here.

This huge pressure of making a difference,
The gnawing need to make an impact,
To not be forgotten when we turn to dust
Is an all consuming anxiety

There is no riddle to the beating of your heart,
No conspiracy to the air in your lungs,
You are breathing, your heart is beating, and you exist.
Sometimes that is all there is to it

We are not all destined for greatness
And the realisation that we are one of the many,
Is more horrifying than any else.

I'm glad I live in an average place
So that I can keep my breath
Who cares about the lack of sights
If my lungs keep me from death
And sure it's not quite pretty
But there's certainly some charm
To back up quiet living
Without tracheal alarm

you're not pretty
like all of these other girls that you see
on the tv and in magazines
but who you are
is so unique
more than those other girls
could ever hope to be