The Weight of “Not Enough”

I sit in front of this screen,
A flood of thoughts, some sharp, some keen.
But there's this weight, this quiet fear—
Why should I even bother here?

I scroll through feeds of polished lives,
Where every post feels so alive.
And I compare, with every glance,
Myself to them, and lose the chance.

The feeling creeps, it never stops,
That I’m too small to hit the top.
My voice seems lost, my stories pale,
And every idea feels doomed to fail.

Why should I bother, when I feel so plain?
I’m just another face, stuck in the same lane.
My life’s not thrilling, my days are the same,
Why would anyone want to hear my name?

The urge to create is met with doubt,
“Who cares what I say? What’s it all about?”
I’m just one of many, nothing new,
Why would anyone listen to the things I do?

But still, I keep going, despite the doubt,
Hoping that something will break me out.
It’s not about being the loudest or best,
But finding the courage to speak, even if it feels like a test.