Loathing Me

Whilst I pen my thoughts
In my head there are churning knots
Every breath a great labor
For life I simply can not savor
Must I look at all the clocks
Look at familiar eyes and take stock
As though comparing will make better
Life is short, waste it? Never
Yet I do hesitate
Pressure paralyzing make no mistake
All potential and talent I waste
As well as my fleeting youth
Leaves a bitter taste.

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