I always tell myself to be better

Waking up every morning hoping that I'll escape yesterday’s mistake.

Still I go to bed with coffee stains all over that new white sweater.

Feeling guilty for every time I don’t live up to my own expectations confusing laziness with simply taking a break.

So sometimes this voice inside is trying to convince me to just settle.

But I can't.

Because my blood rushes through my veins and wakes up my heart, until it beats so hard that it reminds me of the ocean.

Like the how the waves keep coming back to the shore and it shakes me to the core, because I always got the vision, I just lack the motion.

So sometimes this voice inside gives me a never ending battle

I wish I could say something, but I end up speaking to the shadows on the wall

About how my soul screams at me that there's a bigger call

I'm looked up in a cage of all this insecurity

Why would my art matter when there's all those other people around doing so much better than me.

Maybe I'm just faking it.

Confused talent with some random luck and now I'm left without purpose like a hypocrite

That's the most important right?

Without purpose why should I even bother to write.

Still, I don't do it for applauds.

I don't need no standing ovations or confirmation of my work

It's not the audience I'm trying to win over it's just that voice in my head telling me that it's never good enough

That I should be better.

That I should be perfect.

I look in the mirror and smile at the sight

But when someone tries to capture the moment I get hit by a reality check as it unravels the scam.

I'm pretty enough for that familiar glass all right

But I should cover my face with my hands before I post it on instagram.

Although I shouldn’t really care, live as you preach they say

And I tell people all the time that no matter what we’re all okay

With smiles and natural lightning, there’s no need for make-up or filtering

Still I scroll down the feed wondering how all these beautiful people are managing

To be so much better

I don’t paint because I lack the originality

I don’t write because I lack enough personality

I don’t create because I can’t find a perspective that has individuality

I don’t live because I keep filling my head with excuses to why I can’t do any better

But I will tell myself the same thing tomorrow

That’s why I’m never fully taken over by sorrow

And so it will go on and on and on

Until I get better