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I just don't want to hear it...

Good, or bad, I can't take either. One I can't believe, the other is just a kick to my ribs while I'm doubled over.

I have so much pity for myself it makes me sick.

Some are born to lose, some are born to live the blues, it's just the way it goes. No one starts this way, but in time, you might one day find you've woken up on that road.

Getting sick from eating too much watery rice, hoping it will fill you up. Sleeping on a floor. On the edge of losing every last stick.

But it's just the path you took to get here; every time you decided you'd rather not take shit, every time you decided you didn't want to work for those assholes anymore, every time you made a crap choice and had to live with the consequences.

I know it's my fault, I know there's an element of unlucky misfortune, I know, I know, I know, I remind myself every minute, of every day, how screwed up I am.

I'm mad as hell, using myself as a punching bag, while punching myself out. An angry dog, chasing his tail like a damn fool.

Perhaps that's an insult to dogs.

I have to live with it, I don't need your soundtrack to back it.

 
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