Like paper, one mistake and your out,
Like a pen, once your ink is done, you’re out,
Like a bag of crisps, once you’re empty inside they’re done with you,
Did you want this, or did you let others do it to you?
Did you ever try escape the loneliness?
Did you ever wonder why?
You could never be satisfied with yourself
You can never accomplish things like others
Only ones you will ever make happy, are those demons on your shoulders
Whatever is happening to you, is your own doing.