I've been pacing for seven years now
Dug myself into a deep dark trench
The worst part about it is I've known about it but i couldn't stop
I know when things are important but i struggle with the motivation to give a single fuck
It's not a term i use lightly
I want to but it's easier to run
But I've backed myself into a corner and given my past a loaded gun
Regrets are heavy
Placed so delicately on my shoulders day by day
But my knees are getting weak
It's like getting stabbed over and over again with a dull knife
It'll never penetrate but it still hurts right
I'm slowly losing this fight
It never fails to haunt me
Every single night.
I'm not afraid I'm just weak.