Might Be My Last One

Man, I swear I could write all day, put the pen to the page, let it bleed till my wrist feel sore, I could spill my whole soul on a verse, let it burn, but for what? Ain't nobody keepin’ the score. Ain’t nobody checkin’ for substance, they just wanna hear some shit that they barely absorb, I been buildin’ these lines like a house on a hill, but I’m feelin’ like breakin’ the floor. Yeah, I been sittin’ with a blank face, tryna find purpose inside of this craft, Like, what’s the point of these late nights, what’s the point if the words don’t last? Ain’t nobody listenin’ deep, they just skim through the surface and act like they know, Like they could feel what I feel when I write, but they don’t, man, I’m sick of this ghost. I done gave all my energy, gave all my time, gave all my life to the words that I speak, But I swear every verse feel hollow, every thought feel borrowed, I been losin’ belief. Used to think that the pen was my therapy, used to think it was my only way out, Now it’s just chains that be keepin’ me stuck, I ain't writin’ for love, man, I’m writin’ in doubt. And maybe I should just stop, maybe I should just let it all go, Maybe I should sit back, take a breath, and accept that this life ain't the life that I know. Maybe I should put the pad down, let the ink dry up, walk away from the game, Maybe I should stop tryna fight for a purpose when all that I get in return is the same. Yeah, I been spillin’ my thoughts on these pages for years, Used to feel like my mind was clear, now I write just to cope with the weight of the fear. Man, I used to write ‘cause I had somethin’ to say, now I write ‘cause I don’t know what’s left, Now I write just to prove to myself that I still got a reason to take my next breath. Man, I’m sick of these cycles, sick of these doubts, sick of wonderin’ if I should keep goin’, Sick of searchin’ for meaning inside of these verses when really, I feel like I’m broken. I done gave everything, left it all on the track, let the pain be the ink in my hand, But if writin’ don’t heal like it used to, then maybe it’s time I should leave where I stand. I don’t know, I been lost in my head, I been stuck in my ways, I been tryna find truth in a life full of grey. I been lookin’ for peace in the place where I pray, But the words don’t hit like they did in the day. Maybe I’m drained, maybe I changed, Maybe the shit that I loved ain't the same. Maybe I wrote all I had in my veins, And maybe it’s time that I step out the game. But every time I think I’m out, I just pick the pen back up, Every time I think I’m done, man, the words just start to flood. Maybe this the last one, maybe this the last thought, Maybe I’ll be back again, maybe not.