My soul is a deep black well,
Deeper by far than lofty Sol's rays reach.
Clock chimes ring hatefully in my ears,
My friends parallel my deepest fears,
And in the midst of joy and light and hope,
I wonder, is it worth it?
I spiral downwards, ever deepening,
Into that well that never ends.
Around me, my friends laugh and chat and flirt and love,
I stand an island of my self-loathing.
How can we hope to improve?
Why should we think we can do better?
Why do I have NOTHING?
Why is my one talent finding out
How little of it I have?
They do not listen, never listen
To my attempts to do well, to laugh and love and sing.
My voice is cracked; my heart, a rock; my laugh, a drying spring.
How can I continue on when I feel that
There is no point, that I
Will forever be inferior, the lesser
Of two greatnesses?
For lesser am I, will always be,
There is no hope or light for me.