I am the myth of mental stability,
A fleeting dream, a fantasy,
Born from whispers of self-doubt and fear,
A concept fragile, ephemeral, and unclear.

I'm spoken of in hushed tones, a distant goal,
A key to happiness, success, and a soul,
But I'm a facade, a mask to hide the pain,
A myth perpetuated, driving hearts to strain.

I watch as people struggle to grasp me tight,
To hold on to me, to make me their light,
But I slip through their fingers like sand in the air,
Leaving them broken, with tears, and despair.

I see the damage I cause, the hurt and the woe,
The tears, the tantrums, the hearts that don't know,
How to let go of the myth, the fantasy, the lie,
And find the truth, the peace, that's hidden deep inside.

I'm a chameleon, adapting, evolving, changing hue,
Blending in with the surroundings, to make my myth anew,
But deep down, I know I'm still a fantasy, a dream,
A myth of mental stability, an unattainable theme.