Shutup

Shit
I don't even know what to write anymore
I'm sick of feeling this way
You know I suck
And they say it's all okay
"Youll know what to do when the time comes to you"
Yeah right
I'm just a bigot trapped in my mind of self doubt
Always my greatest critic
Always too dismissive of my interest
Always underrating all my wishes

It's okay
I just hate myself today
And I'll admit it
Maybe I am a little depressed
Maybe like a lot
Maybe I spend every breath wishing that
I'm not.
But they keep telling me that I rock
Keep telling me I'm gonna hit the spot
Gonna take over when I finally drop
Shit, what if your right
What everything I write
Was kind of alright
And people fucked with it
And thought it was tight
All the music that I'd make
That I'd be getting my light
What if your right

What comes then
I get good at my work
Will it be what makes me happy
Or will it be what tears me apart.
Cuz if I can't make it there
I shoulda been dead at the start
I'm not even playing
If I can't write, make music,
Entertain
I'll be buying a gun
And put a bullet in my brain
You can't understand
What I put into this man.
I'm fucking pulling out my heart
And bleeding it dry
To give life to my words
And put out stress in my life

Most the time I write I just fucking cry
No words can describe why I want to die
And I sit here bleeding out into the page
Trying to best express my pain and rage
Mental road rage
I get feral like the Stone age.
I get that pissed off
That I suck at life
Constantly depressed
Between black and white..

Man I fucking suck...

Ill just down another bottle
And try again the morning..