Prisoner of My Own Advice

I'm not a stranger to disappointment I'm not surprised by how much anger I feel for something I always knew I would never be man enough to get... but somehow I transformed into a prisoner a prisoner to rot for crimes for life while I waste away, dreaming of being king A king, I always wanted to be a king king of the castle King of what castle I'm too lazy to be anything less than sleep I'm writing outside for the purpose of clearing the cobwebs out of their collective corners but crazy is filling their empty spaces because I'm tossing away my own prepared advice like it never parted from my lips like it never set foot in existence I shouldn't be at war with myself like this I shouldn't be sulking like this but like the story says 'it's always a second too late' I never knew life could hurt like this and I never want to know again Like coil, my mind is unraveling I'm so sick of doubts of this place trying to accept this place as home of false hopes pointing me in disastrous directions of my own darn advice I don't even follow and all those failed pep talks when I don't have the attention span to be myself the real way Disappointment and anger can't be all of me It can't be all of me... I can't be this empty No, not now This pen can't run out of ink on me now I'm all alone I've always said I'd be here I always proclaimed I'm here now but I'm only here in my mind I'm away in a distant place and I can't climb out My dreams persist to slip from my weak hands into the infinity of the last 8 pages I'll be remembered as ashes just remains of nothing So this terrible King will lock himself in his castle to fade...just to fade