I'm having trouble expressing this feeling within me.
It'd be better described as a feeling not at all.
I have a light in my heart and a hop to my step,
Though I'm not at my best,
And I never will be again.
Don't ever forget I always feel better with a pen.

In any case, this realization dawned,
And I knew I could be myself better,
But it doesn't seem worth it
If it's not the best.
That seems a very perfectionist way to view it,
But this is a quality of mine I am attuned to.
And I can tell you, the perfection I care for
Resides in your left breastplate,
Somewhere your rescue will never be late.

I, Myself, truly don't understand my strife.
It's got absolutely nothing to do with how perfect things are,
But more with the absolute disgust I feel with...
I don't ******* know
'Cause **** this!

My head is clear.
This time in life barely matters
I will persevere.
My goal is golden flakes of happiness dipped in sun.
My beliefs are trust, fun, and a pure heart.
All my young devils will be known as angels.
You will not be born owing anything to anyone.
If you wish to run, run with the wolves,
Or breathe with a tree.
True happiness is imagination,
Letting your soul be whatever it wants to be.
Really don't allow yourself down that hole of despair.
There are much more annoying people down there.

So may your eyes burn deep with curiosity,
And may your soul sing a song of serenity,
With a hint of integrity.
And there it is... The Best of Me.