Nothing Special

Everything I’ve ever thought was, long before me, thought already.

Everything I’ve ever said, said years before my thought was ready.

Everything I’ve ever done, done prior to me and done by many.

I have of yet paved no new ground. My life is just stale miscellany.

I’m made of commonplace experience

Of the unromantic I am rife.

I lack any sort of new adventure.

I've mastered not fiddle or fife.

Oh, give me reason now to try and do my best for all my life.

For what‘s the worth of bland achievement when it costs me so much strife.

I am given maps written for me by those who do what I cannot;

By those who preach of this and that, how to live life and how to not.

I know this map is incorrect but it’s the constant lesson that I’m taught.

But then again what else is there?

For no thing have I ever fought.

Drop the map and change your course for freedom remains the better choice.

Let Life’s eternal melody ring, in harmony with your unique voice.

Countless affairs have brought me sorrow; for each and every one I’ve cried,

But nothing draws my mourning more than self-loathing lives that never tried.