I hate myself more than I ever let on. I’m burned out at 32.
I lived too fast and I loved too much and I’ll die too young, but I chose this cup that I drank from.
Knew what I was getting into.  But I couldn’t let out what I had to keep in.
I’m ashamed of myself and unspeakable sins that I’ve committed.

I’ve made mistakes but I’ll find my way. No explanation for the things I’ve failed at before.
They can’t hold my hand.  It just hurts to be a man.
Through the tortures of the damned.


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