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
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