Late nights of no progress,
hard work is a process
and sometimes the stages
brings on plenty rages.
I got open books
and written notes,
but no words written on paper,
and I keep saying later.
Top of my to do list
but becoming last
in all I do.
What does procrastination lead to?

Failure! It's all I ever been.
Keep saying better woman than my mother
and more accepting than my father.
Considerate unlike my rapists
winner in all contests.
The more I proclaim
the less my fame.
Somehow I continue to push on
but when will I get to the fun?

Denying myself more than ever.
Body mind soul bruised by leather.
Tethered to my past
and running fast
only to rebound
hear that elastic sound.
And the pain...the pain
is no longer yielding gain.
My lights are fading
and darkness overwhelming;
and I have to ask
how much longer can I last?

Deaths too far
and hopes only a wishing star.
Guns are a lil' messy
and my knife is rusty.
Fasting is too lastin'
and will bring reaction.
Pills are my past;
obviously my metabolism as too fast.
For this I'm too feeble
plus it'll only lead to hell.
So if suicides out,
what's my next route?

I'll just keep on living.
See where life is heading.
Writing to my dad,
Letting doctors examine my head.
Praying continuously,
mask on for eternity.
Going through the motions
Like bot on waves of oceans.
Asking repeatedly
what's life got left for me?