Shifting perspective

Look, Im not here to sell you a damn thing,

I stumbled into this place, beaten and bruised.

I Walked through the door, thinking I had to be perfect to be worth a damn.

So, how did I end up here? I worked myself till exhaustion

I Worked my ass off. Good grades in School, juggling painting and writing poetry trying to sell it, chasing gallery spots, and poetry slots

all while keeping my 9-to-5 gig, catching my eight hours of beauty sleep,and maintaining a healthy diet and exercise.

And you know what? Just to feel like I meant something to someone to fill whatever god size hole I convinced myself of having

And Well For a hot minute, it felt like I was making proud and it felt amazing.

I didn’t get angry when my mom smokes or hits the bottle

Didn't care that my old man was sipping away living in his haze.

I was grown, doing whatever I pleased,

Doing everything I thought was right, and it seemed to be paying off—for a little while, at least.

But then, I talk to friend , asking for gigs,

and he said, ' another one, How long you reckon you can keep up that crazy pace?'

And I'd shoot back, 'Forever, baby!'

But then, he spills about some meeting,

the second person to mention it to me.

So, I figured, what the hell, might as well give it a go.

Dude hands me this card for some church out on the west side of the valley.

I show up, late as I usually do, sit my ass in the back pew,

and man, I hated every damn thing I heard.

People whining about how their lives are trash 'cause of someone else’s problem.

Blaming everyone else for their mess and then, saying they're grateful for being here.

It made no damn sense.

They all sounded like a bunch of whiny-ass kids griping about their problems,

losers trying to control the world around 'em.

And guess what? I was the biggest hypocrite of 'em all, didn't even realize it 'til later.

Finally, I mustered up the guts to speak at my first meeting.

I stood up there and spilled my guts, saying,

'Yeah, I got people that ain’t perfect everyone’s got problems and I don't give a shit,

But they might kick the bucket early if no one helps, I don't know how to help and what the hell do I do with that. nothing!'

Then, I sat my ass back down,

and people started coming up to me, telling me 'bout other meetings on other nights.

Telling me to keep coming back with big grins on there faces,

And all I can think of is how the hell are you all not full of anger.

I was pissed

I told him this shit sucked,

that everyone was whack, just a bunch of old people bitching about stuff they can’t do anything about

They’re figuring shit out that I figured out when I was a damn kid.

And these people are thrice my age and they’re still bitching about it, they can’t just accept that it is what it is.

And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

It was Just me and my big brain

Thats Stinking thinking, Is what I say

Walking with a chip on my shoulder,

Thought my family bonds grew colder.

I felt small, surviving by acting out,

Perceiving myself skewed, without a doubt.

A poor self-image consumed my mind,

Thinking everyone despised, unkind.

A complex soul, an angsty teen,

Built negative habits, so it seemed.

Always needing to be right,

My opinions shining bright.

Pushing people away, seeking empathy,

Claiming entitlement, a life's fallacy.

Conflict became too hard to bear,

Communication lost in the air.

It was either peace or all-out war,

My righteousness I couldn't ignore.

But through meetings and heartfelt chats,

I've grown, learned, and balanced the acts.

The bullshit I once held so tight,

Now feels like just a distant fight.

Perfection's grip began to fade,

Peaceful existence, a new crusade.

No longer fearing failure's sting,

I cared for my own truth, everything.

Life remained chaotic and wild,

But my perspective underwent a mild Shift that changed how I perceived