I'm struggling. 
I'm tired, my lungs are heavy.
Mistakes are my footpath home,
But im fucking lost cos there's so goddamn many.

I had a choice, just like you.
You had a choice just like me,
So why am I scrapping with turmoil ? 
While you skip along carefree ?

My angst could burn holes through your walls,
My rage is a horrid hurricane
hurling texts and miss calls.

Is my moral compass faulty ? 
Is my brain still on warranty ?
Cos these days, I'm ready to refund it all
Don't bother giving me looks, the order isn't that tall.

I mean, that's ny choice right? 
My endgame, my nadir
Now compare that to your lowest point and you'll see that I've gone clear.

Fear of failure fortunately wasn't my port of call,
For me it's fucked, I just want to be accepted, that's all.
But how can I move like a victim, when I took my shots and potted all these balls ?

Sorry, I've rambled on long enough. 
None of this shit makes sense so you'll probably call it's bluff.

I mean some of you may see the cry for help,
Some of you might flee.
You'd be entitled to do both, these are just thoughts of an attention seeking me.

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