I have prayed
I have prayed and have cried
Each day I've fruitlessly fallen and tried
Again to get back up
And it seems the only truth I know
There is no truth in me
Redemption-less I seem to be
Like a born blind man squinting to see
Something transparent anyways.
My imperfections will define me
regulate my life
So those with less drive and strife
Cut through their struggles like a knife
While repetitively I beat mine
With a weak fist.
Was there a message I missed?
Is my downfall my own fault?
Will success ever opt to be mine?
Or
Am I doomed forever to fail.