I failed, officially.
“It” has made itself obvious now.
I suppose I should quit, now that I’ve failed.
I don’t know what else to do,
besides keep failing.
I can keep going,
keep running myself into a hole.
Keep failing, in the end.
Always failing, at all things.
Failing my body, failing my mind,
failing my family, failing myself.
I am a failure, it is what I do.
I must persist at the failing.
The only thing that I will ever fully be able to do,
I commit to this, this is my fate.
I am a failure.
This is my pride parade,
it is not a pity parade, *ahem*
it is a FAILURE parade
there is a difference–
In pity parties, there are other people
sighing, moaning, hugging, pissing a bit.
Aren’t you glad they came to your party?
They get to see you, pitiful shit.
Look at you, you pitiful shit.
I feel so bad for you, you pitiful shit.
I am not pitiful, however, I am
My badge, worn bitterly across my face.
There are no other people at failure parades
No one, they’ve all left.
Who would stick around for a failure parade!!!
You, mr. failure, are complete.
Just the way you are.
Walk tall, loser, you
unanimously rejected farce
Wave your flag high!
Absurd, confused and stupid.
Totally, utterly, lost.
Lavishly loathsome, fabulously failed.
Abandoned, disowned, cast-off
you are a failure, look at yourself!
This is my pride parade.
Not everyone can be a failure.
In order to fail,
you have to try something.
Go for it, risk it,
break for it.
Take your chances,
play your odds.
To be a failure,
you must write your own fate.
To fail, you must participate.
Pitiers, merely speculate.
they’re tainted love.
Different poem, for a different day.