Counterproduct

Some of us have the talent
Some of us, just perfectionists
Some of us just dwindle
Some of us dwell on it

Some of the time
I can reach inside
And pull out something
Beautiful and flawed
Most of the time
I forget

Bring me past it
This little room
Take me away
From this claustrophobic
House called home
Take me past it
The midnight parks
Where bums sit
Sleeping and coughing
Up today’s catch
Help me pass it all away

I am not begging
I am not afraid of
Doing these things
For myself
It's just that
Pride aside
I need help
I need a crutch
Like everyone else
And if it can't be God
Then what?

I am so tired
Of putting so little in
And getting so little out
And doubting it
With good reason

Just because you’re an artist
You think you shouldn’t have to
Know the meaning of hard
Hard work
Grow up and hit the road
No one wants to buy
What you want to do
Even if money is not
What it is you want
What do you want?
Happiness
But how do you get that?
I don’t know
How does one go about knowing?