draft 2 (the art of self-sabotage) - 29/06/2021.
my mental gymnastics keep well hidden the gaps in my armour.
i grind my mind against burden to make my wit sharper
to never burn out bright before i dulled down to a dim glow.
if this is all that life is, i'd rather the choice to just forgo.
i keep myself warm by dressing in the skin of my regression.
this houdini of self-harm is ready for his final act of deception.
i am man made of glass crushed beneath the weight of casted stone -
the mastermind behind the manhattan project of chances fucking blown.
i've still got many things to learn about how badly that i suck.
everybody clap their hands to the beat of my fuck ups.
i'm just searching for a break but i'm shit out of good luck.
pick at the edges slowly fraying, strip away the costumes and camouflage.
i sell myself out to my enemies - i am the sun tzu of self-sabotage.
i stumble willingly into the same traps, ambushed time and time again.
there is no discernible difference between the ills of mice or men.
will that every ill-fated prophecy remember me; an impenitent thief.
shill for every ill-laid plot and scheme, and attempts at weaponized grief
that unraveled like a tapestry sewn from the bloody fleece dying lamb.
bled dry like piano keys - fake ivory from the horns of diseased ram.
and every day i'm doing better but please don't get your hopes up.
just keep your expectations low so i can fit under that bar.
everybody clap their hands to the beat of my fuck ups.
i swear i'm doing better but i won't make i wont make it that far.
every bend that fails to break becomes another thing that weakens,
a dog that refuses to learn will become a another dog constantly beaten.
indiscriminate and volatile are the heavy hands of a wicked man.
where he crawls he exhumes pestilence and brings about salted land.
i am the king of shameless betrayers. i built my throne upon deceit.
the ixion of hopeless romantics; oblivious, as the cycle repeats.
i raise a kingdom from the ashes of my unapologetic aberrations.
i ride the ferris wheels of fire from my self-immolation.
and every day i'm doing better but i won't get my hopes up.
everybody clap their hands to the beat of my fuck ups.
i swear i've learnt my lesson about how badly that i suck.
i'm just looking for a break but i've ran out of good luck.
just keep your expectations low so i can fit beneath that bar.
every one of my friends worry but they don't know what to do
because every little problem seems to start and end with you.