what was generated

I'm a compulsive truth teller wanting to capture the very moment I lived or the moments I nearly held my breath too long and as I battle with the anguish of existence I watch wondering what I can learn from those held together with stronger fibres than me it seemed as always on the cusp of devastation I am I really wouldn't want glory that I'd stolen from open souls nor to gather in someone else's beauty it's painful to watch people paint with lies others daub false praise for reciprocation for the onlookers trust less and everybody loses a little part of themselves