“Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
I’m tired of all of these poking prodding questions
Expecting me to have lived my life to the fullest.
But what can I say,
There is nothing to say.
I am average
I am only one.
And yes, yes
I know it only takes one to get things done,
But, come on now,
How do you expect me to plow through life thinking that I “have a purpose.”
That I can amount to something
More than myself.
And that all of this pain
Is going to be well worth it in the end.
Well, in the end,
I feel there isn’t really a point
To allow myself to fully anoint myself into life.
I don’t believe them when they say,
“Things will get better, darling.
Because at the rate things are going,
I am not convinced.
Don’t start to worry and go running off in a hurry
Thinking that I truly want to be six feet under
Because the chances are…
that I would act on a whim in order to swim in the waters below.
Although, there is a sort of enchantment that the water seems to bestow.
But I’ll continue to grind
grind my teeth
And bite my tongue
Because I am sick of people constantly telling me that I am too young
To be walking beneath the clouds that only come in shades black and grey.
And the thing is,
I am not leaving my mark on the world
Or paving a new way in gold.
So, why don’t I just stand aside and wait
Until someone sets the record straight
That our being here isn’t nearly as important as we want it to be.