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Ha— its fucking October
Yet all I do is drop the ball
I can play ball
I know ball
At times I bawl
But ultimately
One or many
Balls drop
So embarassing, so stupid
Im a fully grown adult yet I can\'t manage my time like I should
Its my major, my life
My— me...
Living in the realm of blame
As opposed to the abyss of self-loathing
I can\'t even write a poem every day
Just a tiny poem
And a tiny drawing
I can\'t even do that
I can, sometimes, Im just bitter
Distracting from the voice that whispers that I should kill myself
With every minor inconvenience, mistake
Her voice is quiet and tense
A haunting presence...
New Year starts now
And my resolution is exposition
That voice needs to fucking die
I\'ll kill her myself
Then turn myself into the police
Hands bloody, chords stripped
Smiling in my mug shot
I\'ll be Happy
I\'ll be New
What can change in a Year!