Mediocre at Best

Mediocre advice, a Happy Pill Master

Overthinking once, twice,

my life’s a disaster.

Three or four times,

each attack coming faster.

Until I lose count, after one hand

it doesn’t matter,

I’m gone.

I won’t be back for a while.

But I’ll leave my pleasant failures

just to make you smile.

And I’ll forgive you for every time

you made me feel insecure.

You only meant the best for me,

that I know, I’m sure.

When I say I’m giving up

I swear it’s not on you.

I’ll always stand by everyone who was there

when I fell through.

But when I do fall to my knees,

I hope you’ll have forgiveness too.

Sometimes I lack the strength,

or I don’t have a fucking clue

what I’m doing here.

What is my living purpose?

Cause as far as I’m concerned,

I have an overwhelming surplus of

doubt in my ambitions and

my ability to ruin

all of my own progress,

my will to exist as human.

Please, try to understand,

I don’t doubt that I could make it.

But I cannot see the point in and existence

where I fake it

Every. Day.

Sometime I just can’t take it.

But I’ll continue to move forward

for a dying dreams’ sake.