That Sorta Guy

Learning to be okay with how things are
The way that they are
The way that they will
The way that you will
For, you will
And so, I will

I don’t have to be the number one ultra special person
Who lets you put down the gun when you sleep
Who inserts a ball of sun in your heart
Who grounds you like no one else

Even if my heart screams that it’s a lie
I have to tell myself “you’re just not that guy”
Because even if I am that guy, even just a little
I can’t trust myself to hold that title without a white-knuckled grip
Unless I am assured a sign that it is here to stay longer than a round ticket trip

Manic, maybe at times.
Pixie? Well, if you search for my mind.
Dream? Isn’t it all, babe?
Oh, boy…

I don’t know why I’ve deluded myself into thinking
That I need to be
Something of an MPDB
Maybe I’m tired of things having a profound impact on me
Without getting a fair turn at being the muse, for you see,
Only then, I’ll know how far my impact can emanate
And how that redistributes worth back into my weight

It’s driving me wild
That every song is still about you
And I fight back
Bite back
The urge to ask
If you’ve ever written a single line for me
And I’d hate to make you feel guilty
If the answer is exactly what I’ve already resigned it to be

There will always be the half of me that hopes
And half of me lined in jade
And as long as they coexist in my head,
I may as well be half-dead