I'm sick of everything being so

Tentative
Sick of repetitive
Sick of the space in between
Being filled with a sedative
What's left for remarks
Has lost all it's spark
And any chance to turn and dance
Now contemplated as a farce

No swimming in the let go
Too perplexed with the undertow
And a personal perpetual head hunt
That conceptually returns
Then comes and goes.
I scream. Can I stop carrying these Boulders?
It seems the second
I relax my shoulders
Is the very instant that my desolate Impending doom smolders

I test tracing lines to vent my crimes But the paper seems like a stranger
My last confidant left to respond
Was taunting this balled up anger

"It would have never happened
If you weren't distracted.
And paid a little attention
And gave a little practice.
Your talent has been squandered.
Your very soul grows cold
Like an overlaundered actress.
Maybe if you spent some time to write and rhyme you'd have something
To show for it
Maybe if you weren't a voodoo doll Filled with push pins
In that instant you wouldn't blow it.
Maybe if you had the patience
To plant that seed you could grow it.
And instead of extinguishing
The first sign of a spark or fire
You would just know it."

It's like being caught in an interview Between the lie you tell yourself
And the distant truth
And the web you weave
Has too many deviations
And you grow confused
You grow tired and old
And feel just as abused

Then a simulated head rush it seems
With two strokes of the pens brush
Can softly whisper sweet things
While your cheeks turn to red blush
Then comes back around
To bite you like a viper
When you realize you grew Complacent and despise to
Naturally get hyper
The life you could have then
Gradually escapes the vice
Of your fingers
And here's the final zinger
That kind of sentiment will linger

The hallowed out version of you Stepping in to be the ringer
When all you ever feel is to reveal That you're actually a singer
That you actually have more talent Than most in your little finger
If you could just stop getting caught up In what was brought up,
What he said she said
And all those things
That make you malinger

So wake me up when it's all over
Get me off this roller coaster
Take me away to that sweet place Where I was younger
A time when I was funny and bold
And filled with hunger
Let me ******* dreams
With not a wasted moment
Teach me to fill this space
Even while I make a small dent