It's not that simple

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Nothing to say, so I'd rather say nothing.

Momma always said to say nothing if there's nothing nice to say

But what would she say about nothing to say at all?

It's not that simple.

 

It's hard not to walk away.

It's harder to fight for lost nothing.

Does that mean there is nothing to fight for?

It's not that simple.

 

I shall just focus on what makes me happy.

But the steps I stand on are crumbling beneath me.

Is it age?

Is it well use from the past?

Or is it abandonment of the youth?

It's not that simple.

 

If I can't be happy, then it's not worth it.

It's not a crime for me to be happy.

So what if I achieve?

Can't I choose to be happy?

Can't I feel good about doing well?

Can't I do something without criticism?

It's not that simple.

 

Why can't this nothing turn into something.

Why can't I turn this into a way to defend,

A way to attack back?

I can't because that wouldn't be nice.

And Momma said "nothing nice to say; don't say anything at all."

Can I turn it nice so I don't feel guilty?

No, it's not that simple.

 

Should I feel guilty about achievement?

I know not, but this reality is backwards.

So am I backwards in the reality,

For trying to put my best foot forward,

For being logical,

For trying to be practical?

Can't I just end this by breaking off?

No it's not that simple.

 

Silence is my enemy at times of confusion,

But now I feel as though silence is my best friend.

Let those who appreciate hear my truth,

And those who attempt to tear at me with untrimmed claws,

Hear my silence instead of me.

Yes, I think it's that simple.

 

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