Deplorable and horrible; Despicable, abhorable; It reiterates, evaluates, desiccates, and exacerbates. It never fails to fall too short, but always fails as a support In an attempt to be freed, it misleads to bad deeds And creates a hunger -- vacuous, yet impossible to feed. It chases the light away and it longs to be alone. And I am so ashamed to say, that in my skull it found its home.
So I will fight and fight against it, but I will always lose the battle. I have found that even as I trudge ahead, that somehow I still straggle. It is the artist, I am the instrument. Like a light bulb to its filament. Every day I am at the bottom, forced to climb back up the hill again. But I think the day has come... when I have finally stopped walking. I have reached a door that canβt be opened, and have decided to stop knocking. It is me and who I have become; it is my actions and what I have done. And as much as I despise it, it seems my brain and I are one.
I will tuck myself away, lock the door and here I will stay. I am right where I belong, hidden by darkness and dismay. I will mingle with the dark, and the beasts that vanish come the day, Because I seem to fit right in where the rest of the monsters play.