I tried to say it, yet again
Crumbled up the paper before I even wrote the words
None of it matters anymore, if it ever even did.
I can say the same thing in a thousand languages
but I can't make it make sense.
If I was a kinder man
If I could still a shaky hand
If there was promise left inside
If it wasn't infected with rot
I don't know why it fixates me so
There's nothing but phantoms in my reflection
When did my focus become so distorted?
How long before my eyes fully adjust?
My insides are twisted
I'm being held up with wire
My animation is not my intent
Who's calling the shots here?
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