I'm expendable and I guess that's okay.
When I serve my purpose, I'm discarded.
Without second thoughts, I'm pushed out
of the life I helped create.
Fear not, I'm accustomed to the enduring pain.
You learn to live with the innermost scars;
the ones that just can't seem to heal.
I try to see the clarity through all the cracks
that my vision is afflicted with,
but there are those days that all hell breaks loose,
and I feel six feet under, suffocating
from the pressure of the burdens I carry.
I try to dig out of this mental confinement,
as if there is some sort of hope awaiting,
but upon the other side, the only thing that's calling
is another scar that's been waiting patiently,
eagerly waiting for me to sign another contract.
In exchange for temporary freedom, I accept the pain.
What else must I do? What else can I do?
I need some sort of loophole; an escape route.
The bitter realization is no one knows my world,
they don't understand all the weight I carry so "effortlessly."
The truth of the matter is I'm sinking,
and the captain always goes down with the ship.