My poisoned pens
are poised and pointed at me
Because I fail people
more than frequently
I let bullshit
from the worst parts of my brain
the critic, the bully, the boss
get fully in the way
I can’t connect in the way
that I should
I can’t connect in the way
I wish I would
Cos that ‘I’
is always in the way
The ‘I’ filled with self doubt
self-hatred and dismay
He blocks the view
of a needful you
and I became a mouthpiece
who can’t offer any peace
because this brain is masturbatory
same old ‘fuck me’ story
there is a game I play
where I try to make myself okay
But it all ends in a big come down
mania always ends in a frown
As the dip and drop kicks in
and I run out of serotonin
hold for the peaks, I declare
but that’s not a view I can share
as drown in inches of water
not propping myself up like I oughta
cos villain is an easy role
when you don’t believe you have a soul

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