I’m just fed up with myself. I hate that I refuse to sit still and empty my mind of all manners of thought. I hate that I’ve become so impotent, been reduced to sterility. I hate that something in me won’t ever give up. I hate that as a person I have to constantly do and can’t ever just be.
The agony drags on in my mind so much so that I am no longer free.
If freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, why am I not free?
If all I’m to do is pick up the pieces and move on, why am I still singing take a little piece of my heart?
I’ve never looked so contemptibly at myself as I do now.
Ah, how we have fallen!
So dark. So old. So sterile.