at he age of 34 what have i to show? what kind of accomplishments? nothing at all, not leaving behind any progeny once was a wonder kin a fucking prodigy now-a-days im someone who needs to smoke just to cope, someone who walks the days in a haze just so the anxiety and depressions dont get the better, but why is it always speed, why am i always on the go with absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go, i still feel like this life is something that ive worn not lived. something like a mask i put on im just going through the motions weaving in and out of things that dont have rhyme or reason as i watch the seasons change, as the flowers bud and wilt away, as the leaves change color and fall to the earth just to regrow and be in the same place. the viewpoint that i see is simpleminded small and boxed in, no horizons have expanded nothing profound to speak so i remain sleep deprived as i wage wars with demons that are unseen by everyone but me. how am i supposed to pull myself up and go when i sullenly with no hope look at half my time get eaten by a black hole, stretched thin in a never ending agony thoughts and nights blend together its all the same monotony why do i complain about all alone, no lovers no friends no family nobody to see the truth behind all the lies i tell myself to keep grounded and not meet an electrifying ending to it all, just another day i curl up and bawl, nothing will ever change it never does anyways, and thats the problem i face good or bad its all the same thing the outcome doesn't change and im left yet again with nothing but its everything to hear a scream in the middle of nowhere where nobody can sing, nobody can hear the notes of despair as i strum right along hum drum songs that means another year has passed, another revolution another three sixty five that i didn't pull the trigger. so happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear loner have a another lonely day n i blow out the single candle i lit for myself. i am happy? thats what the fake smile i wear says, i dont believe, im a liar and a cheat its honestly a feat that i dont end it all today. 34 fucking just a number being a hypocrite against the hypocrisy that leaves my mouth they say life throws what we can handle, man what a load of bull just try and grab the horns and get skewed towards the way that i hate the look in my eyes, the way i make an excuse for nobody but lonesome so i choke upon knowing its only half done, at least another 34 to go they say, how can i hold on when making it here already took all i had? i want to be okay but okay seems so far away that it makes me sick to my stomach if its just another day then i say hey lets blaze away 34 must be the number of hits i told myself id take today, what else could the number mean surely not something great or mean just another random thought,,, on this ordinary every other same kind of day.
