Inadequate

"One of these lives Imma make things right with wrongs I've done, ,just wanna unite with the Father, Son, 'til then I fight,

Rain on me, put the blame on me, got guilt, got hurt, got shame on me, done every magazine what's fame to me?"

Everything's the same to me, I claim to dream, I stay bereaved, I fear the leaf

Only ever felt my heart in brief, my mind is cheese, my thoughts unweaved

Try to live life intellectually and lovingly

Try to follow my curiosity and keep my feet

Run away from the lives I've loved, the times I was

Walking without a thought of shame, I felt the fame

Now the words elude me, all I wanna talk about, just to prove me

But I never feel like I'm properly proving, lucidly moving

Words representing what I lack more than what I have

I guess it's one and the same

I choke on my name, the death of me

The shallowness of identity

Constantly pulling from nothing

Only to be consumed by desiring

It's what I have to fill the hole

Feeling good, head to toe

The pain can't be confronted by an idiot

I judge myself accurately to heal myself

Then I forget what I know and lose myself

Aversion to wealth

Step around God

He lets me pass

I wasn't created to be valued like that

I question that

They say an idiot won't know they are

But why not?

They can still see what they don't have

They feel the anxiety of being lost

Of losing

Constantly

If I'm not smart, then I'm self-aware, I tell you!

No, I'm self-critical.

Smarter to be confident, anyway.

Until I'm confidently wrong.

Where's the balance?

Why can I not see it?

I can't see any of these elements clearly. 

To be confidently wrong is to be bothersome

To be self-critical is also to be bothersome.

To be self-aware is to know when you are each, so you are able to be right in the best way.

Show everybody you're smart and kind. 

Look at how smart and kind I am, everybody!

Oh, am I bothering you?

Let me be quiet

Silent

I am insecure

But what does that mean?

Is it better to be insecure if you're definitely weak?

I mean, unintelligent and meek?

Isn't that just accurate self-conception?

If I am fundamentally broken, so that these insecurities can either be ignored or embraced

I mean, embraced in the way I am now

Why would I want to be proud of weakness?

Of stupidity, of not knowing?

I'm proud of admitting that I don't know?

But then I don't try

So why say anything at all?

If trying leads to failure, and acceptance does too

If all roads lead to failure

Why go anywhere?

I have dreams

I have passion and love

But what if they aren't real?

I mean, what if they're unattainable?

Just imagining, as we all do

But me?

I imagine things differently

I imagine being amazing

I imagine things without depth

Uncritically

Solely desire

My desire to be intellectually curious

My inclination towards philosophy and psychology

What are my motivations?

Philosophy is seen as the most intelligent thing

If I were to master it, nobody could say a negative thing

So I am just driven by insecurity

And psychology?

Maybe an attempt to understand me

Or a way to try to manipulate the thoughts of others

So that they see me highly

Or so that I can see us evenly

And laugh at your biases

As I claim to be aware of my own

Where is my throne?

I still wouldn't claim it

Even with those two things

I'd still be a fraud

A joke

A failed attempt

Natural selection

The cream rises to the top

And the meek all want to reach it

I don't even see it properly

Because I see those masters of philosophy

And some are happy

Many are tortured

Some rely on their ego

Many have broken it down

It's all a game

That we all have to play

But you're so adept

At navigating life

But you're nothing special

You haven't read Kant or Plato or Nietzsche

But you see things clearly

You don't need it

But does that make you a sheep? 

Accepting what you've been given without question?

Does that make you stupid?

Or is it stupid of me to frame life in that way?

That there are sheep and masters.

That the sheep are weak and unthoughtful.

If we are born, told to live a way, and succeed at it

Why would we fight against it?

Those who fight are those who fail

Or those who fear failing

Or those who are sympathetic of losers

And the many losers who occasionally have power

When they unite

But on a smaller scale

In family and friendships

These sheep can be masters

Masters of themselves

Dealing with other masters

They may not see deeply into society

But they still see and feel

They feel for you and me, if we are worthy

And I am such a master

But on a smaller scale

I get lost with friends and family

I don't dictate much of anything

I feel oppressed easily

I get frustrated quickly

I want to be direct

To be honest about my woes and fears

But that's to give them the reigns

Allow them to steer

What do I control?

I'm being tugged along

And I'm pulling them behind

And I feel the weight of my self-pity

And, that, I try to display

To give the world the reigns

To surrender myself completely

To the void of others' thoughts

That I may never understand

Their complicated emotions

Overwhelming mine

And I occupy a bit of their time and mind

Perhaps too much

But I let myself die

And my self-pity explodes

Everybody feels it

All of my woes

For only a moment

Then they return

To their normal life

That which I yearn