incredulous.

when i first arrived in this place i was so sure that i was ready,
i laid down maps to plot my path but couldn't keep the pencil steady.
i'm forever grabbed by callous hands when i'm reaching out for guidance,
constantly forced back into the same routines of placating my over-reliance.
i subsist solely off of spite, carried on the backs of friend's sympathy,
another prophecy self-fulfilled from the stunting of an emotional infancy.
i exchange the good-will of others for enough coin to pay my dues
so if my silver tongue is worth anything, well try to rip that out too.
merely a vessel being controlled by the demons clawing through my sobriety
so the significant efforts of my best intentions, rotted away by this anxiety.
my most prolific inactivity amplified through the lens of my stupidity,
the bend that forced the break can be pinned only upon to my rigidity.
i think that i'm so clever, although it's probably pretty obvious that i'm not,
i'm forever analogizing my folklore around the tales that i've forgot.
i'm throw down from my pedestal but my feet never reach the ground;
i swing like some petulant pendulum wearing my noose as a crown.