Two Decades

I don’t expect to make you smile

'Cause honestly, my tendency is disappointing everything

And everyone. It’s so fucked up, I’m messing up.

I should just stop.

Problem is I never even started.

It’s an introduction to a life I never had,

A monologue to a scene I never wrote.

If I had a sentence for a rough draft I’d be glad,

Instead I just idle and I mope

Under a cloud I created with my own thoughts.

A building I chose to destroy.

Because I’m afraid of what I think.

Because I’m afraid of feeling joy.

It’s stupid and it’s bleak,

The way I chose this empty vastness.

I can admit that I am weak,

A cynical lonely bastard.

I’m surrounded by love and concern.

I know I should open up and learn

How to care for others the way they care so much for me,

But a day goes by and I’m back to self loathing.

I wake up and I take all that I can

From people who decide to give,

Because they were born to die poor and happy

As long as I can live

Fat and content with the garbage that I inhale.

But no matter how much they give and die,

At the end of the day, week, month I always fail.

I could blame Mom or my non existing Dad,

God or Lucifer or the friends I never had,

Bad fortune or this world we live in

For the fact that I always seem to give in

To my self-indulging acts of hate

To myself, to others, for the messes I make.

But the King of Pop had it pretty spot on

When he said to look in the mirror

And meet the man who has done the wrong.

If I could even be called a man.

I was taught the definition,

But I don’t seem to fit the mold,

I don’t believe I could complete the mission

Of what a man should truly be,

At least how it was described to me.

“Be strong and true and bleed for others.”

While I hear fire and run for cover.

I want to be the one to protect and shield.

Never give up or fail, and build

An enormous wall to keep everyone safe,

But as I try to stack the bricks

They never fall into place.

Instead I’m on an island of my own delusion

Filled with fantasy and fiction to reach no conclusion

Of who I truly am or what my life should be

To never really feel or listen or see.

I once heard that ignorance is bliss,

And I’ve lived life based on that statement.

If it could even be called a life.

More like a concluding timeline until I don’t get up from the pavement.

Is that the way my life will end?

With nothing to show or give? I tend

To fantasize about my final day

While the present beauty seems to fly away.

I should wake up and soar after it.

Think of something other than myself for a bit.

One moment where I actually love and shield and care.

One night where I don’t just sit and stare

At a wall of my own hate and criticizing contradictions.

To see the real beauty and leave the fiction

For another stormy night filled with thunder and confusion,

One day with no delusion

Of who I should be and who I’m not.

Go back to the mirror and see what I’ve got,

And if I have nothing I’ll just make something up.

I’m only twenty, life can’t be this rough.

And if it is, I’ll give it my best shot.