"You're getting younger",
my life said as it gazed into my eyes.

"Can I whisper something?",
I smiled, as I marveled back.

My life cupped my face and pulled it closer,
"tell me, gorgeous".

"I am loving myself,"
I sighed.

I am lonely.
I cannot say that
I have always been alone,
although
now I know
fate meant for me to be this way.
I have nobody.
I would be wrong to say
someone would care,
if I tried again to destroy myself.
The effect would be massive
only if I was perfect.
It's untrue that I could have worth,
even if I tried.
I am less than beautiful,
nobody can convince me that
I am right where I'm meant to be.

I am incapable of writing
So don't try to convince me that  
I possess countless poetic ideas.

Because at the end of the day,  
I see only failures in every attempt.  
And I'm not about to lie by saying that  
each setback helps me along.

Because no matter what,  
                        I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity.                        
And I am in no position to believe that  
true inspiration dwells within me.

For even in my darkest musings,  
Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?

During one of my falls I must have accidentally gave a rain dance performance
A permanent grey cloud overhead, only mine, quite a thing to witness
It's a hindrance, I can't rid it from my existence, I'm not in the fix-it business
Would the hyperbolic y'all know the opposite to reverse this by chance?
I know what you'll be witness to looks bad from a distance at first glance
I understand, I've stood right there too, in that same cautionary stance
And why lie?
Persistence only dug my hole deeper, shoveling in a trance
I'm just a living, breathing being needing guidance and patience
And it's it to much to ask for an actual two sided romance?
But we can work on that last...

©2024