The backup option

I'm under the notion,

That

In people's mind,

I'm the backup option.

So you ask me,

As a hardworking reporter,

Sir, how does it feel,

Do you feel safe and proud

Or are you a big fucking loser?

It's not the backup that gets me,

What bothers one is the uncertainty

Of people's plans, even at the most basic

Could you for a change

Make up your goddamn mind

So I can fuck off

And search for my own find?

I like you, that is true,

But dear gods forgive me for this

I ain't standing in a queue

Until you figure out your plans

The town, the job, and the outlook of you.

Man what a mess,

I'll be the first to 'fess

The total lack of structure and plan

Doesn't inspire much confidence,

And this from a disorganized man.

The embers of affection and love

That back in the day burned white hot

Begin to cool down, with not a sight

Of any steps you might take

Towards the direction right.

And much like an annoying parent

I must say

I'm not sad or mad

Just disappointed.

A little bit in you, yes

But this one's on me, my big loss

So now I wonder

If I must end this, completely surrender

And start my new journey

To be the protagonist

Of my own

Goddamn story.

For all the awesome things you may be,

Love,

And forgive me for this

But I wish you were a better

Writer, fighter, mightier.

This is clearly the story

Of your life

Where I have no role

Besides a minor character.