Good Enough

Sorry leaving the living room gave you the ick.

I just needed a second. I’m just feeling sick.

I’ll try harder to be the man you project onto me,

Choke down the vomit, try to consider what you need.

I saw on the news, they found a body by the interstate.

Man sitting in his car. I think he was 28.

Loved ones don’t know what drove him to accelerate

Off of the bridge. I wonder if he tried to say something.

So I won’t.

I’ll man up.

I won’t cry. I’ll survive.

I’ll get real fucking tough.

I won’t talk.

I give up.

The next time you ask me

“Are you good?” I’ll be good enough.

Sorry I talked about my childhood for a while,

I’m hyper aware of when I’m losing your attention.

To keep you around I’ll just sit with denial.

It feels heavy. It feels cheap. It feels like misdirection.

Shouldn’t entertain searching mens suicide rates,

But I did and it’s 2 to 1. I wish I didn’t see.

My old man said that suicide’s the cowards way out,

And I’m too scared to tell him how scared I am now.

So I won’t.

I’ll man up.

I won’t cry. I’ll survive.

I’ll get real fucking tough.

I won’t talk.

I give up.

The next time you ask me

“Are you good?” I’ll be good enough.

So I’ll measure my worth by the size of my chest

And I’ll brag to the guys of my sexual conquests.

I won’t rely on meds. I won’t see a therapist.

I’ll solve every problem with my fucking fist.

Come see if I fucking mean it.