My concept of happiness is completely based on fiction,
accustomed to disappointment from the human condition.
I’ve been fed exaggerated emotions and I’ve taken them as wisdom.
Romance has torn me a new one, and now I’m sad.
Try and fish for some compliments, try and find some self worth.
Try to fall in love with another person, try to be loved by the earth.
But when you’re met with constant let downs it feels like things can only get worse.
Expectation tore me a new one and now I’m sad.
Hindsight fucked me up, the past facilitates resentment,
and I get told not to dwell on it, and to live for the present.
Living in first person is hard when you’re not on a track,
and if the present is a gift then I want to send it back.
Roger Ebert said “If you have to ask what it symbolizes then it didn’t”
and I try to work my way around this by being blatant.
I’ve got tonnes of wasted metaphors across my writing pad,
but the only thing I feel honest in expressing is the fact that I am sad.
