Liar, Liar: The lies we tell ourselves

23/09/2020 -  Poem a Day Compilation



I know I’m not even close to perfect

But I somehow have to be that

Or my life is a waste

And there’s no point.



I struggle so much with my lot in life

I don’t understand why I do

When everyone else seems to have it so easy

And my life seems so much harder.



If I ignore this feeling that haunts me

It will fade away into nothing;

All will be good with the world

And all will be good with me.



I’m too old to believe these fairy tales

That good things come to those who wait

When time waits for no man,

And no woman either, by that token.



But I’m too young to be this cynical –

Jaded by my meagre years upon this earth.

When I should be full of hope and optimism

And an overwhelming sense of self.



I guess I’m just not the happy type.

I don’t know whether I never learned to be

Or I’ve forgotten how to be

Or it’s just something I’m fundamentally not.



But I don’t judge other people.

They can exist in their happy world

And live their lives however they want

And it doesn’t matter to me at all.



If I follow my heart, my heart of hearts

Then everything will work out,

I just know it will because it has to,

Or what’s the point of it all?