To tell the truth, it s hard to...

To tell the truth, it’s hard to prove
that I don’t want to waste my youth
on nameless people, cans of beer
and loud parties out of fear
of missing out on that first kiss
or singing into the abyss.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to say
if I will ever get away
from eerie echo in my head
of layered thoughts I can’t unthread
without a copying mechanism
or a healthy shot of criticism.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to see
if my brain ever sets me free.
Forced me to watch the episode
– “Excessive worry in panic mode”.
That acute fear knocked me off course.
This ravaged my soul with no remorse.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to speak
constantly feeling like a freak
who’s getting cancelled, mobbed, abused.
I speak my truth, there’s no excuse
for hatred, violence, lies and terror.
It’s not the norm, it’s a cruel error.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to feel
without making a big deal
out of his touches, smiles, and words.
I may be wise or even worse –
Musician with a broken flute.
Avoidance is my strongest suit.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to lie
when his hand’s sliding up my thigh,
that I just want to live alone
with no primal need to be loved, to be owned.
I will be a tradwife, tender and wise,
I want three kids. And a dog. What a genuine surprise.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to move
away from cowards and junk food.
Why are they so horny for sugar and prize?
And want to die at young age being super plus size?
My old friend, common sense – is under vigorous siege.
I’m surrounded by idiots but what do they preach?

To tell the truth, it’s hard to breathe
when my head’s chanting “What if, what if”.
What if I’m that coward who lacks the courage
and bravery
to endure unpleasant things – the master of mental slavery?
What if I just succeed? What if I can't pay my own bills?
What if a dog bites my leg? What if don’t have enough skills?

To tell the truth, it’s hard to judge
if I lose my mind, will I hold a grudge?
Will I dance in the rain? Will I start my own cult
and believe God is real? Is he a grown-up adult?
Will singing my songs have me tied up in knots?
Religion loves desperate people who lost all at the slots.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to laugh
when indecisiveness signs docs on my behalf;
when I hit the lowest of the low
trying to set myself free from our collective shadow;
It seems my whole life’s been on a collision course
Hi, I’m that idiot who states obvious to the oblivious.

To tell the truth, it’s hard to find
a person with a brain serial number same as mine;
inner peace, true happiness, glasses, car keys,
and my dignity when I fall down to my knees.
I’m scrolling the feed, what’s the purpose of life?
If I turn off the phone, is it better offline?

To tell the truth, it’s hard to cry
when you are dead
but I’m alive.