The Fight

Rarely i think Do i feel total defeat But when it does It chokes me as it snatches my body from feet All the things i do seem irrelevant Sinking my spirit deep I call myself an artist but never am paid And when i fail at it, i sit and loathe myself In this cave Should be grateful for what i have and feel happy truth be told But theres these thoughts inside i have That no one else but me knows And when they stir as i still The pain of these thoughts grow So il shed these words And maybe not feel as mold It hits me at once The anger the sorrow the loathe Questions start birthing doubt of self worth A con artist to my self My art not even honed Years have passed With none truly treasuring them Makes me feel alone Drawing wits dimmed from impatience Thoughts out of focus Guitar always sings an underdogs song No purpose to bear does it have but to be played When im alone Then the question of my sanity begins The ball breaker to the chorus's bones That drags me down to a lowly pit home I dont feel suited for who im supposed to be Even if im not crazy So much evidence Still does not comfort me Deep down i always feel im going to fail Always coming so close But the world i feel doesnt care So i feel empty, drained and sometimes scared ... And this is why i have to fight myself Because i have demons battling me within Every single day