Our Worst Day

When you strip away

all your choices,

all your mistakes,

all you 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

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