Tired of the excuses,

I turn to the room of lies that stand before me

Air thickens, cloying in the desperation-laden drivel that spews from my mouth

All the failures and thoughts of what could have been press down,

adding insurmountable weight better left tucked away

Voices whisper in deafening tones with promises of futility

But I’ve grown sick of it,

Looking in the mirror at a husk of a man with no place to point fingers except his own reflection

Gaunt eyes gaze back, revealing what’s behind the mask for only a moment

It was long enough to see the damage done over the years

Time to look into my abyss and confront the horrors that beckon behind the illusory wall

The horror of what I’ve become.

Pessimist Poet’s Words For Thought

“Excuses are the tools with which persons with no purpose in view build for themselves great monuments of nothing.” -Steven Grayhm