I can’t do miracles.
I can’t save anyone.
I’m a man with problems.
Problem I tried to ignore.
Drinking, lying, terrible childhood
That doesn’t make me special or even tragic, it makes me human
It means instead of pulling away to my special place in my mind
I can go to people and share my story
and guess what, they got it bad too, maybe worse
I have my health
I have my job
I have my children
these count for so much
I just need to make friends
become a real man and
maybe I’ll find someone who thinks I’m a pretty good guy
Not their savior, not their divided spirit
I can’t be that
my spirit is nearly empty as it is
but I can be whole again
I can laugh again
I can smile again
I can go over to my friends house and tell jokes
and have them laugh with me
It’s a whole new world out there waiting for me to take off my blind fold and give it a great big hug
I may not be an angel but maybe I’ll find one in my life that makes me believe in miracles again