How does one deal with one’s own inadequacy?
With true lack of merit, of talent, of acuity?

What do you do when it is shown plainly to you
that you’re not worth anything of real value?

How do you feel when even after enough chances
you’ve consistently failed at making advances?

It’s clear that life is not being unfair here:
you genuinely suck in every possible sphere.

So just shut up and accept that you’ll never win,
never feel soaring success or happiness within.

What you’re best at is being a loser by far.
You live in a studio, can’t even drive a car.

You yell at friends and wallow in self-pity.
You reek of sadness, and you’re not even pretty.

It’s not the universe, destiny, karma or fate
that stops you from finishing even one poem straight.

It’s all you, my friend, it always has been.
The awkwardness, stupidity, amentia and cringe.

So just stop trying to find an answer or excuse
for why you’re being treated like repulsive refuse.

It’s because you deserve it, you really do.
And that’s all there is to it, so now we’re through.

Terence Tuhinanshu

Terence Tuhinanshu

poet. thinker. designer. developer. citizen of the world.