Drowning in my self loathing,
Wasted, lost in the pity of my youth.
To unbecome what should have been done
Is proof of precious time ill spent.
Head so high my thoughts all fly,
Potential scattered in the wind.
Burning days to skate through nights,
Can't sleep so I pretend that
In the end my effort spent won't be irrelevant.
Blood shot eyes don't disguise the sorry state I'm in,
Reflecting on the decades gone,
Scars read like braille across my skin.
The blind would see a comedy,
Tragic in the end.
The curtain close will expose
My pitiful youth wasted.
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