I'll never

I'll never make a thing of quality

I'll never be a star

I'll never feel the breath of angels

however near or far

I'll never hear a song of praise

to listen to alone

and after my demise they'll just say

well, at last he's gone

so lonesome is the life I lead

so desperate the trail

that though my body functions some

my state is very frail

I hear the voice of reason and

I hear my madness too

I tell them to my therapist

but no one wants to woo

I see remarkable efforts

and products great and true

and cry 'cause no one ever'll say

we know this art is you

this longing in my life to make

something that outlasts me

is always in my hopes

but something I will never see

my death will be in vane

just as my life seems now at times

there  would be more purpose in life

were I to do large crimes

but even for the worst of it

I am unfit to tread

I don't know what to do no more

not even nights in bed

vicariously I try to live

but fail at that as well

I cry my eyes red every time

I allow myself to dwell

were I courageous and determined

purposeful and strong

I would have done myself in

and end it with a gong

I'll never do a thing of quality

I'll never be a star

I'll never feel the breath of angels

however near or far