But we prefer to pretend it does not exist.

this fight isnt supposed to be so hard,
this harsh, relentless battle
for breath, for freedom,
for happiness, for an improvement of our present.

for some ambiguous greater purpose
we get bruised, we get beaten,
we ache, we bleed.
it baits us, letting our hopes soar through a glimpse of illusive triumph,
only to be shot back down by a glass ceiling barrier.

at most times temptation to end it overcomes us,
the sweetness of escape, a relief from pain,
so easy, numbing.
we pause, on the brink of falling into naive insouciance,
but our gut tugs our feet back, our bodies falling into cushions of tribulation once more.

do we simply never learn from our mistakes,
or perhaps just inside every one of us is a little fcker of a masochist?

--------------

its 3am, sleeplessness makes me sad and slightly unhinged.

'Cause we're all guilty of the same things
We think the thoughts, whether or not we see them through
And I know that I have been forgiven
And I just hope you can forgive me too

So don't you dare blame me
For prying open the door
That's unleashed the bitterness
That's here in the midst of this
Sometimes we live for no one but ourselves

And what we've been striving for
Has turned into nothing more
Than bodies, limp on the floor
Victims of falling short
We kiss goodbye, the cheek of our true love

And you can't see past the blood on my hands
To see that you've been aptly damned to fail and fail again.