Is my life wasted? Did I mess up? Will I be enough?
With all the steps I took in strength
Rejoicing reconnecting, I still slipped.
Even though I held my hand out to many
Gave in return attempted at times, to expect nothing
Is my life wasted
Do my ripples matter in the long run
Have they touched you?
When I feel unwanted am I wasting the hope you feel you’ve given me?
Do I not see that which you put before me?
Am I searching in the wrong places?
I take the few who hand me hope to grant me wishes that came true.
Still is my life wasted?
How do I know if I hold meaning to anyone but me?
If I reach a few is it better than none, more than many?
What is a wasted life?
Who’s left to define it?
Are we allowed to be lonely or only strong
Each day I hold on saying No, my life is not wasted
I wake up and embrace it
My messy, tangled hair sometimes unwashed
I fall back into the river the current pushing me away.
Still in the back of my head the music plays
Is my life wasted, am I wasting away.
Hope is there, but doubt doesn’t go away.
~Angela K. Crandall~