Beating lonely at it's own game.

Something's not right.
Something's not right.
Thing's are going wrong.

I wish you the best, though I'm not quite in the best of spirits.
Sadly I cannot turn back time or make it speed up.
All I can do is sit back quietly and watch it pass me by. But can do nothing to catrch up.
Yes, I contradict myself. Yes, I make no sense. Yes, I talk shit. Yes, I lie. Yes, I'm human.

Of course I wish I were a robot, silly duck.

My eyes are tripping. I'm slipping into unconsciousness.
Fall.
Hit hard.
Nothing's cushioning the blow.

Was that you? I remember about 20% of what I write. I mean about half of that.
Don't take me too seriously or I'll piss you off.

Nothing I write is poetic anymore.
Currently obsessed with making myself feel like shit. Stop trying to make me feel better about me.
You're not succeeding.
Just let me go.
Roll.
Flow.
SLOW THE FUCK DOWN.
You're going nowhere fast.
Even passing me in this (human)race.