Hard Times

Rotting up against the solid brick wall is where I shall lay, watching my body and soul slowly strip and decay. My surroundings are empty, just as the life I've dealt myself over and over again. My foolishness has filled me with unnecessary rage. alongside comes the lies and deceit I've layed over and over again, for now the tables are turned against my secluded ways. Now the truth be exposed and used as a tool to play mind games, chipping away at me one by one untill theres nothing left. I sit here in my own sweat and shit, the aroma of my own bullshit sickens me. Everything seems meaningless at this point, I have no dignity, no trust, no reason. I can only question my past, present, and future, none of which I can come to an understanding. Compelled to combine two worlds into one with hopes of mending the present, the past still conquers all. Learning is not an option, I knew better from the start, but I am selfish and secluded with the time I give to myself. My lips have laid enough pain to damn my own soul to hell for eternity, and here I sit, in my own sweat and shit, waiting for that day.