What You Make It

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On Better Terms

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Try so hard not to live selfishly
Become so blind to the ones around me
They say you get what you give
But then why have I received so much yet given so little
Why have loved ones fallen by the way side
As if my plans were so noble and enlightened
Dare not interrupt my search for existential revelations
Better known as wasting away in the background
Just a way to euphemize the vices that keep me busy 

The calendar pages torn away by the hour
Seconds tick exponentially
But there are still years yet to count, for now
So fickle and fragile as the dying petals on the flowers that I never sent you

Desperate for a world where compassion comes first
Unable to practice it in my own life
Years of conditioning are impossible to undo
And frustration sets in like a sharp, sharp knife
Maturity means more than it ever did before
Perspective and a grain of salt
It truly is what you make it

I hope I have the chance to redeem what once was
And come to terms with what will never be
Cause this stagnation has me straining helplessly
To be the man that they all see in me

And if the road to hell is truly paved with good intentions
Then this is a cold world and it's hell to pay for me

Opportunities squandered and outcomes pondered
Into memories and regrets, I've carelessly wandered
I must leave the past behind
And I can't complain 
Cause I have so much yet to find
So much yet to find
So much to define
So much to make right

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