In a world where traits such as bigotry, greed, narcissism, non-empathy and some level of superiority (in ones own mind) are the key attributes to ensure success and some sense of purpose and fulfilment... I am less distressed than I should be to have failed at life.
I have come to appreciate simplicity and things that are genuine and wonder what reality looks like to the successful. Do they value a warm embrace and a soft kiss and the company of someone who likes them for who they are in the same way I do? And when (if) they feel and experience these things in a genuine way does their success still feel good when they reflect on what made them? Do they even reflect upon such things... or would they be less successful in their own minds if they saw themselves for who they are?
Can you be happy if your aspirations are something other than to love and be loved in return? Without these all is deception and you are both the deceived and the deceiver.

I'd love the way I'm eager & adrift
That's the only time to know confidently I Would lift!

I no longer know
What progress feels like
Every time I feel like
I have made
A major improvement
I lose my footing
And fall right back down
From where I started

"How do I become successful?"
"Are you alive?"
"Yes"
"Then you're already doing it.
Keep it up."

An Invisible permanent scar,
will hitch my wagon to the star.
Some say no time to heal
I say I won't let it make me it's meal.
Some say you need a little brightness.
I say some things are better timeless.

On my journey to the never land
Where amber waves stretch far and bright
People trek with their vase hugging it tight
For their fear to lose their tiny vessel of joy

On my journey to the never land
Where pitfalls lurk in the shadow of trail
Some just alighted for a break
While some people camped their life
with their vase

On my journey to the never land
Where broken dreams shatter
The place was filled with mourning air
For their vessel, they didn't take care

On my journey to the never land
I found myself lost in this trail,
We're about to cross
Where's my vase did I left it there?