I have a lot of insecurities and self doubt There are a lot of things that I don’t particularly love about myself
The way that I would second guess most of the decisions I made The way that I used to prowl about, and devour every man that made me feel like a ******* without pay I often times sit and ponder about how insufferably rich I could have been, if only I had been using my ****** head
These insecurities and self doubt, They live in me like the blood that pumps through my veins
It’s not as though I've lost my pride Or the emptiness I feel deep inside It’s like a blade, without the sharp tip plunging into my heart And the tears swirl beautifully down the drain disappearing, and turning into a drought A river bled dry, of all it's renowned glory and distasteful self perpetuating doubt