When you strip away
all your choices,
all your mistakes,
all your pain;
what are you?
Are you a child again?
No more fashioned
by consequences,
the vast, erroneous wheel
we spun
and went down comically.
No one asks the question;
“Am I my fallacies?”
They just want to believe
that they’re awesome.
Well, everybody’s awesome,
even you,
you pathetic,
whining,
second guessing,
naked and uninteresting;
maybe it’s you
who made you who you are?
You’re a fucking star.
Don’t deny it;
no one could fuck it up
like you did.
You’re an idiot savant,
the best there ever was
at saying the wrong thing
at the wrong time,
getting drunk
and sleeping with the wrong guy,
the wrong girl;
you’ve made up your whole world
moving from one mistake
to the next.
It’s what we do best.
Victories are few and far between.
The reality is,
we spend an obscene
amount of time
picking ourselves up
and brushing ourselves off
and saying;
“That sucked,
but I’m going to give it
one more try.”
Either we succeed,
fail,
or we die.
We are made
of all of our mistakes.
Might as well enjoy the taste
of the blood upon your face
and embrace the fact
that there’s no other way,
we could be defined
by any other kind of thing.
We’re all just as good
as our worst day.
HG – 2017
Our Worst Day
