To Be Someone Else

[J Hillenburg]

I tip my hat to envy, I know it well
and respect its ugly power over me.
It has disabled my spirit to compel
a hatred of self which I guarantee.
It has crippled my heart past repair,
and those scars I bear with shame.
I do not like myself, it is not fair,
but I only have myself to blame.

I loved women I could not possess,
I befriended many fools and fakes.
I saw qualities free from the excess
characterizing my many mistakes.
I measured my life by your look
of easy confidence I so admired.
But I was flawed, and soon took
no pleasure in what I had desired.

Can I not be content with my self,
must I always demand so much?
I wish I had never defined wealth
strictly in terms of what I touched.
I tip my hat to envy, let her pass,
and acknowledge her as a force.
That hatred I have yet to surpass,
and I curse its damnable source.