Time feels like two steps forward and seven steps back.

Hope and Faith decided it was time to pack.

So, I smoke another bowl to drown it all out.

That gut slaughtering emotion, of true
self-doubt.

Wondering if any choice you make is right.

Pondering, if there's anymore reason to fight.

Just another smoke after a ****,
Forcefully laughing at another joke.

But now I can't even speak.
Time's a great teacher, but it's future is bleak.