I'm sorry for the man that I've become. I'm sorry for not becoming a man, but a bum. Living life aimlessly not having a drive. Driving off of the edge. Seeing it through cold eyes. Steadily pushing the gas and not hitting the brake. Trying to be real. Because I hate to be fake. That's where the low self-esteem comes in. Hating my life and being in my skin. Hating my lies and trying to pretend. That my life so great. That I don't need friends. But who am I kidding? I need them in the end. Lord knows confidence doesn't come from within. My soul is in pain. Depression ingrained. Creating emotional stains heartache remorse and disdain. I can't get out of this room. Thought process so consumed. My thoughts are my demons. Leaving me so construed.
©reece3677
R