Make It Out Alive
There isn't a place that I hide
I'm trapped inside a maze, let me write
incase I don't make it out alive
Because I feel the storm coming
I'm so forthcoming about my shortcomings
Exercise my feelings, so even if my brain stops you still hear my thoughts running
I've paid for my mistakes, but there's another court summons
I'm guilty, i won't lie and say I didn't do it
You talk about waking from a nightmare, but I'm living through it
Battling demons, fighting depression, how will I cope?
Re-reading my rhymes, will they feel what's wrote?
Will it be over analyzed?
Is the pen too heavy in a hand of pride
Is my talent for writing being vandalized?
When my demons come, should I stand aside?
Too prideful to let them win with ease
I grin and believe
I'll overcome anything, but something will stop me eventually
And that's difficult to swallow mentally
If I go now, that means I'll die without kids
But I fathered myself, because my biological sperm donor never did
Should I hold it in?, am I wrong to let all the details show?
Struggled with love and I've been a male hoe
That's right, and term you use for a promiscuous female, you need to label me that too
When you fell for me, I'm sorry I wasn't able to catch you
I'm proud I was good looking and charming enough to get with all the females I got with
But I'm ashamed, because I had love In my grasp and dropped it
Who am I talking about?, Stacey?, Chantal?, TJ?, Katie?, Zoe?, Or someone different?
Is it all?, is it none?, which is the one he's missing?
I miss a bit of each, am I wrong for admitting that
Read this, I'm just giving facts
I've got scars bleeding from a decade ago
Have I seen my best days go?
I see people cut food with knives
And I almost lose the fight
It brings back flashbacks of my self-harming past
If I do ever relapse, will anyone help me back?
Or give up on me and see me as a lost cause?
My pad is filled with my lost thoughts
I've got over 2000 poems I haven't shown anyone
If you read them, you'll see me in many forms
My words are shed tears
Rebecca, you weren't my first girl, but were my first love, so not much needs to be said here
If we ever get another chance, we'll need more than a bed to share
We'll need a fancy restaurant, with a holiday destination
You're my first love, so of course I'd have high expectations
When we split, I instantly hated the next guy you got with
And the one after, but when it comes to happiness I'm glad you got it
Mom I don't hate you, I just can't forgive you
When I look back at what I had to live through
Being bullied and laughed at in the foster system
Because you were vodka drinking
I craved the love you and dad never gave
No hugs, no goodnight kisses, because I was in a foster place
The devil is still mad that I managed to escape hell
I'm mad, because I still can't express myself well
I miss her, but I won't put the girls name here
It wasn't too long ago, that the picture became clear
Some people don't seem to get it
I say screw the world, because proving people wrong is my fetish
I'm not a good poet, maybe I need to change the way that I write
But I'm trapped inside a maze, and I just hope to make it out alive
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