“Optimism is a T Shirt”

Optimism is a T shirt
I rip off the hanger on a dull morning
The colors distract the world from my angst which is boring
It’s fake, polyester
It’s coated in ‘I know betters’
But they don’t.
My mask is in tact and I’m winning as far as anyone’s concerned oh

And here’s how you pass for a human who is okay
Throw open the doors
Chin up
When you walk, sway
Smile and laugh
Change your pitch
Switch your pace
Keep everyone on their toes
Make sure everyone knows
You care about them more than most
It’s not a lie it’s a toast
To your devotion that roasts
Under a burning flame of consequence
Happens when you care deep in the conscience
It’s a pain you live with every day
Keep typing away
Keep choosing to isolate
We all know how well that turns out
What are you doing turn yourself around
Not again you’re making a mountain out of a molehill
Or maybe vice versa they still don’t see the big deal
Next step
Throw comedy in everyones face
Like a magician does with smoke
Associate faux pride with your name
For the final act intellectually levitate
Don’t reveal your secret, don’t choke
Optimism is your weapon tell your friends what you never tell yourself

Tell them the truth you bear In the armory:
first comes health.

The armory is locked some days
You can’t find a key
Or anyone’s praise
As if it could unlock satisfaction equally
Your dignity lost along with the ability to pray
To a God that created his biggest mistake
Whether that be you, the entire world, night time or your fate

Isn’t it funny how it’s always the universe vs. one
Isn’t it funny how hypocrisy exists
I am bearing it now in my self aware self defenses
I’m imperfect
Yet indignant
I hate myself for this inner putrid egotism
Ironic isn’t it how am I so dramatic
My head is spinning at my contradictions in passages
I consider myself the face of good until I hear myself saying it
Then I see paranoia as a person in my mirror relaying it
I want to break my fist on the plaster for not properly crafting
The words to get people to understand exactly what I’m feeling
Two people have told me they are not mind readers
Pretentiousness was not my intention I am just not a breather
Underwater makes for hard conversation
It’ll be after death that Earth finds an adaptation
I am misunderstood but I’m not allowed to say that
I’ve learned if you don’t give something up you start seeing backs
Or feel a knife in yours
You can hurt and refuse to be wrong
Or play along to their chords
Maybe if I was better
Maybe if I could write
I could etch away the wretched feeling that rides in on the night

The mind is like an engine
People think it’s fuel is edible
They forget simpler things they deem complex and difficult
What’s more important Zs or respect
I’d lose sleep for honest love
But I can’t speak for the next
What fuels the mind is rest
Emptiness that I can only equate with happiness
Why is it intelligence and hyper awareness are antonyms for the latter
How is it I can go to be fine and wake up begging for death in my morning shower
Before I even give day the chance to tack a smile on me
On my fragile paper face on my fragile paper body
A sickly paper skin
Tearable paper ribs
It takes one person to rip right through it
It took one person to take my heart and leave me screaming that I’m irreparable
You can’t fix paper with anything remotely reliable
It’ll never be the same
You’re left a defeatist who claims they are morphed and maimed
Contorted in emotions with false spiritual gain
In your favorite t shirt that you force yourself to put on every day
You could be proud of pulling the shirt off the hanger
You could stand behind a podium and preach cliches like ‘it gets better’
If first you didn’t exhaust all other options
If you could tell them it’s not always a choice, optimism
It’s the only thing left that’s not singed in the closet
All the other outfits burned down
You’re only left with one selection now

So who are you to even think of being proud of yourself?

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