𝕴𝖓𝖛𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙

I'm not trying to be clever, I'm not talking to anyone, it's not out of arrogance. It's the kind of phobia you hide behind a forced laugh. You want to humiliate me? I signed the contract before you, too late. I'm so angry with myself that even the mirror avoids my gaze. (I am destroying myself.... Dirty rat... Dirty rat... Dirty ratatatata...) My relationships? Crash tests without protection that mutilate me. Swiping left has become a reflex. My flow? Nonexistent, but I own it, that's the crime. My voice trembles? Of course, anxiety overwhelms me with every rhyme. Long hair, dirty glasses, unsteady gait. I have the charisma of a printer salesman in a shopping mall. I live in a van, not for adventure, but to escape the world. When someone talks to me? I freeze as if I'm being interrogated every second. There's nothing you can say I haven't already said. I'm the kind of guy who loses battles that nobody even started. If you think you can make me doubt myself, you haven't been listening. I'm a defenseless target who shoots himself before he even gets pointed at me. (I am destroying myself.... Dirty rat... Dirty rat... Dirty ratatatata...) Single? Dude, Cupid ghosted me. I've flirted more with awkwardness than with love. I'm romantic, yeah, but in a way that never gets sent. Like, "I look at her, I don't say anything," then I leave like a coward. I'm that guy you never see, I'm invisible. Basically, I have the flow of a wandering librarian. No swag, no style, not very elegant. Just a lost life, in a permanent glitch mode. There's nothing you can say I haven't already said. I'm the kind of guy who loses battles that nobody even started. If you think you can make me doubt myself, you haven't been listening. I'm a defenseless target who shoots himself before he even gets pointed at me. (I am destroying myself.... Dirty rat... Dirty rat... Dirty ratatatata...) Say what you want, I've already said it, I'm my own worst enemy. You have nothing on me that I haven't spilled. I'm too sincere for you to hold me back. You're out of ammo, I'm a target that shoots before you even aim. I won't lie to you: I'm afraid of people, afraid of crowds, afraid of the echo. I dream of being great, but I built my dreams on my knees, alone. Even my dreams ghost me before I wake up. I have the swagger of a wise man who got drunk the night before. There's nothing you can say I haven't already said. I'm the kind of guy who loses battles that nobody even started. If you think you can make me doubt myself, you haven't been listening. I'm a defenseless target who shoots himself before he even gets pointed at me. (I am destroying myself.... Dirty rat... Dirty rat... Dirty ratatatata...) Go ahead, diss me, dig a little deeper, scrape the bottom of the barrel. But you'll see there's nothing left, I've used up all my ammunition. It's me against myself, I'm in a one-man showdown. And you can't kill a guy who's already wiped himself out.