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It is what it is . . .

And I never learn

I just burn

My bridges

And call it living

I just stay


And I can’t keep forgiving myself

For letting down myself

These repeated patterns 

Scream at me

To change

To rearrange my life

And try to do it right

To admit my mistakes

And to attempt to be great

But all I feel is


I force it out

And what follows

Is real

But not real enough . . .

I dropped the mask

That made me appear tough

And tried love

But still

It isn’t enough . . .

I tried not to care

But I wasn’t aware

That I needed that mask

Because when you open up your chest

And pull out your heart

And write with it

For everyone to see


You have to be tough for that

Yeah . . . you gotta be tough for that

And when you try to be great

It’s a lonely road

That’ll feel painfully long

Before you even get a glimpse

At your own greatness

In fact,

You probably won’t ever see it

Your own soul isn’t for you to see

It’s for you to chisel and shape

And it’s up to everyone else to decide if you’re great

But if they like you

It usually isn’t because you’re actually great

It’s only because

They can relate . . .

I don’t know where I was going with this . . .

And that’s how it feels these days

Lost in the sauce

Focused on the wrong thing

Blinded by arrogance

Writing nonsense.

I hate writing about writing.

It’s my only rule.

CH 4/7/24

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