I lie a lot.
To myself
my friends
my family
my girlfriends
my readers.
See I just lied.
I have no friends
or girlfriend.
I wish I had no family
and I�ll be surprised if
I have any readers.
So mainly
I lie to myself.
I tell myself things
and I believe them.
I tell myself
that I have a life
worth living
pretend that I am not
alone
Imagine that I am in love
I fictionalize my reality.
I believe I�m a good
writer.
The biggest lie I tell
myself.
I know my writing
makes no sense.
Has no logic.
And are just a bunch
of words thrown
together.
Yet my mind and soul
will tell my hand
to keep moving that
pen
on that paper.
To keep typing
away at my computer.
To believe that
one day those
words
will be something.
What shame?
Pity me.
I am pathetic
piece of dust
in our world.
I�m less valuable
than a dead
cockroach.