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Malia Mar 2
You’re right—
I’m just making excuses.
Why am I so 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥
All of the time?

“You get more sleep
Than 99 percent
Of your friends,”
You said.

So doesn’t that mean
I am supposed to be

“Be happy,”
I say to myself
In my head.

I am supposed to be

But I am not,
And all I have left
Is excuses.

And yet,
Why do I look for more?

I want somebody
To tell me
That you are not right.

But I know you are.
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
Why do I feel the need to explain myself to myself
Using preloaded excuses from myself for myself then toward myself
Feels impossible to keep myself safe from myself
In the attempts to escape myself I've lost myself
What's it going to take to save myself from myself?
The endless battle with my mental health, fighting myself despite myself
Do I even know myself well enough to know if I should save myself?
Why, at times, do I want to be someone else?
These are the things I ask myself...
...I tell myself to keep it too yourself

Nigdaw Apr 2023
you reach out
but the journey is too far
and I have not the faith
to go the distance
the void between us
is a chasm I can't bridge
it's not you, it's me
all the old excuses
it is easier to be alone
than to try to share time
open some doors
push some boundaries
all this potential activity
is met with my weariness
of all the times
I've been let down before
M Solav Jan 2023
Sorry but not sorry
For the things that I have done.
Sorry but not sorry
For all the pain under the sun.

 And all the longing to set ourselves apart
 From the will of the masses,
 Though we clearly stand as one.

 And the reticence to play our part
 In building on new bridges,
 Though we clearly need them now.

  Short story long,
  Long story short -
  Sorry but not sorry
  For writing off this song.

Sorry but not sorry
For all the excuses that I make.
Sorry but not sorry
For not owing back what we take.

 And all the mannerism along which we pretend
 To care so much about the future,
 Though we clearly act for our only sake.

 And the conflicting messages that we must send
 As we aim to **** the messenger,
 Though we clearly all covet his fame.

  Short story long,
  Long story short,
  Sorry but not sorry,
  For writing off this song.

Sorry but not sorry
For casting off one more blame.
Sorry but not sorry
For the ills that one must name.

 And all the finger-pointing with no concrete action
 As we forget the final hour,
 Though we clearly hear the call

 And all the conflicts that we set in motion
 As we bow to the god of power,
 Though it clearly draws our fall

  Short story long,
  Long story short,
  Sorry but not sorry,
  For writing off this song.
Written on January 8th, 2023.

— Copyright © M. Solav —

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact for usage requests. Thank you.
Mrs Timetable Jul 2022
Everything on my body
That I have two of
Don't match perfectly
So why do my socks need to

Wednesday excuses
But close enough. Famous for losing socks
If any path you took would lead you to greatness
Would you still be afraid of taking the first step?
And stay where you were and still are now
Living each passing second in waking regret?

Because the path to greatness does not mean
The journey is a one way, uphill climb
You fall off and climb then rest in between
Taking care of yourself regardless of time

Because the lessons lie in every moment
Mundane or overbearing extremes
You can find each lesson in the takeaways
If your mindset is easy to upkeep

Because a dream will never come to fruition
If it only lies comfortably where you sleep
Bring it forth into your waking moments
Or live a life waiting to grieve

Because I need that daily reminder
That it is not what but who I believe
I am capable of making things happen
I’ll take myself there with my own two feet
noura Aug 2021
I cannot explain all the pathetic measures
my eyes will take to avoid your gaze,
all the paths my legs will journey to avoid bumping into you on my way home.
All the ways I knead my hands to the bone and all the toothpick excuses skewering my tongue.
And I cannot explain the way your presence deflates something inside my chest.
I don't know what to do with all that empty space. It echoes.
I fill it with the thimble's worth of pride that I scrape together,
every meager flake of validation I pick from the floor. I shovel slopping handfuls of sawdust
to try and soak up some of the shadows
but everything dissolves in that oily void, green and hideous.
God, it echoes, and everyone hears it.
I muffle it with my radio silence.
I look at you and I see everything I hate about myself
under a microscope.
Every blemish, every scar, every gaping hole
that you lack.
Stop, look. Here. Wrong.
I blind myself with radio silence.
I don’t know how to live with an eternal reminder that I am incomplete.
You, and the place you hollowed without even knowing it.
Green and monstrous.
It echoes and everyone hears it.
I love you, but I cannot explain my radio silence.
handcrafted product of Insomnia™ let's hope i don't hate it in the morning
Zack Ripley May 2021
You've filled your pretty head
With a million excuses and lies.
Stop wasting your breath;
I've seen and heard it all a million times.
Sorry, little boy,
but you're not as cute as you think.
You may think you're water in a desert,
But I'm not desperate enough to drink.
Because I may be lonely, but I'm not alone.
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