Why am I in the shadows nowhere to be found
By the people I owe and to those I’ve done wrong?
Hidden well in my darkness, no one keeps in touch
With my world or my person. I ruminate much
On my defects of character which does prolong
The dark night of my soul. It’s a ship run aground.

This is rather depressing. Who tells me that I
Am an unworthy creature whose frequent misdeeds
And mistakes relegate me to those of a class
That can have no redemption nor half empty glass?
If I swallow that bullshit I’m stuck in the weeds
In a Twilight Zone episode hard to deny.

I can say that I’m human. It’s not a cop out.
I can reap what I’ve sown now, let go, and move on.
The emotion of guilt is destructive. It will,
If it ain’t dealt with initially, even kill.
Rather I intend fully to see the next dawn.
That my life can be salvaged I have not a doubt.

People don’t learn a thing if they don’t make mistakes.
Everyone is a screw-up at times in some way.
Insecurity laden, my comparisons
Are but useless and futile, except for the ones
That uplift and propel me through my useful day.
I deserve this, as all do, along with fair shakes.