I’m not perfect, yet I try to be.
Because what’s the point of a blank philosophy?
Expectations never dead set, man what a catastrophe.
My morals all twisted, wanna get out of this addiction,
But according to my science, xy equals submission.
Too many decisions---clouded ambitions.
Is it just me or is this storm progressin’?
Because all of my highlights are the shadows of my competitions’.
Close my eyes, and wish with all my might that one day or at one time,
One sunset or one sunrise,
That I’d feel alright.
But the problem ain’t the fact that I “deal with too many events.”
It’s the fact that I have gotten so use to this consistent sadness and emptiness that I have made it my only thought to express.
Trained my own brain to feel this way.
Blame my so called heartaches, but d*mn that ain’t my true enemy.
It’s the way that I have hardwired my mentality.
The way that I have manipulated myself into feeling nothing but pure anxiety.
With all honesty: I was the one who dilated my pupils into not seeing the true side of things.
It was me, yes it was all my fault.
I was the real reason for my years of doubt!
I was the singer who said “This is a story of a broken soul”,
Neglecting my own words that stated how now is the time to be bold.
Not the time to be cold:
Now is the time to grow,
To forgive myself for causing disownership of my own skin and bones.
Now is the time to Forgive.
Because if I can’t forgive myself, how do I ever expect to love myself?