I can admit, what I am I am not.
The one who’s left behind of best forgot.
I am not special, I am common clay.
I am the one who’s morals decay.
I am not the one with something to show.
Of significance I will never know,
I am the one destined to choke.
Take to the grave the words I never spoke.
I am the addict seeking an escape,
Alone and sober when the silence breaks,
Sell my soul, all debts are repaid.
I am the one of whom stigmas are made.
My best intention, a free floating thought,
Stripped, barely alive, or all for naught.