If wishes fell like rain,

Then certainly I am a storm.

I wish I could be good enough,

I wish I could write good enough,

I wish I could play good enough,

I wish I could act good enough.

Why can’t I be good enough?

If you asked me what I wanted,

You know I couldn’t tell you.

But inside I’m swirling,

With nothing stable to cling to.

I want to feel comfortable,

At ease with myself as a person,

I want to be assured,

That my accomplishments matter.

They never do,

But I can lie.

The storm is churning,

A restless downpour,

That drowns my logic.

Hope is a dangerous thing,

An untamed tide,

And I have swam too far out.

I think, for half a second,

That I could be worth something.

But then the lightning crashes,

And the rain recedes.

The sun has emerged,

As painfully bright as ever,

But I’m left, somehow,

More hopeless than before.