It's so crazy that as you're aging, somehow Things become so complicated But you water it down and saturate it With the simple fact that dying alone Is the only thing you're thinking about Metaphorically you're holding the phone Just to relish in a tiny lack of silence from songs playing Cause it's just a reminder Of all of the goals That you had for yourself Before you moved both the posts To make room for the lies You told yourself when they were close I guess I needed room to feel I did more than coast Yes I am selfish I'm only human at best I just hope that I myself can mend my imperfections They're all I've ever shared Would it hurt for once to give myself a breath of fresh air? Fuck, I've slowly just been pouring it out Without ever paying mind to the welts Or the bruises that arise from the bouts Of which I always seem to burden myself When my self worth should outweigh every scale (every scale) Especially when shedding things that kept me overwhelmed And it's just a reminder Of all of the goals That I had for myself Before I moved both the posts To make room for the lies I told myself when they were close To solidify my place and not be known as a ghost of what I once was Fuck, I've been pouring myself out With each word, blood spills from my mouth Now I pace my self inflicted hell Why can't I just admit that I fucking matter?