It feels like I've done this before,
Held my life in the palm of my hand before.
It's different though, deja vu,
but not quite right this time.
Last time, I had a gun in my left hand
And pills to the right
On the table with the fifth, the filth, the writing and hate.
I was crying, 99% prepared to present the gift
of a literal demonstration of my demons.
And with this show somehow you'd know demons are real:
Frustration, Anger, Betrayal, Failure.
150 pounds of tailor made, perfectly insane self-hatred.
Deep rooted angst from Linkin Park oldies
To half intelligent bullies to forgotten and lonelies.
How long is too long a wait for happiness?
Homies try and tell me that time will help...
I didn't fall in with the Chronies, honors, goths or jocks,
But I fell anyways never really caught.
But that's not this. This is new.
This is something I've longed to do.
You, who have seen me struggle and grow,
who watched me suffer, stutter then blow.
Egged me on, shut me down, held me close.
Everyone who ever gave me hope or loaned me rope,
It took me a little while still but I can finally cope with mom.
The diversion of attention, it wasn't intentional,
I interpreted that wrong.
I took loss more personal when it felt like family abandoned me,
As per usual.
Got tired of playing tug-o-war with myself, useless.
So I found another use for the rope,
as the hole was dug deeper,
I looped one end on a root, the other to myself.
I stood on a shelf and puked that glass of 40 proof I chugged.
It was some crazy shit, like Quelf.
Cause even at my darkest you mighta missed that Self.
My main distraction is action, or lack there of.
Say no evil and no one asks What's going on,
I did almost no evil, no wrong
I did plenty of sin from 7th grade on,
I heard a lot too, but say nothing and who would guess.
I guess I just dont like bragging about my mess:
Introverted, self-loathing and yearning for something a lot less stress related to convert to when my feelings are stacked and my evil is back and I have exactly thirty seconds before I collapse and I snap and react and I've blacked out,
I take that back 'cause that's not this.
This is new. This is something that I've longed to do.
I will no longer keep me down.
I hold my life in the palm of my hand,
and what I write on this pad with this pen
is a demonstrative show of what I hold within.
I release my Damon monster strait jacket,
this moment, this time, this passage of mine
has been done, acted out, rhymed, line after line before,
but my crime isn't plagiarism.
There's not a figment ghost guiding me along like in some religions.
There's no pigment any artist has used,
that's as blue as the ink from this pen I've abused.
I've cruised through life letting things happen to me,
My entire body was a walking penitentiary,
I sentenced myself to prison with every sentence I wrote.
I spoke on the spokes of my bike,
You could taste the salt that dripped in my eyes
every time I ran till I vomited or cried.
I'd look you straight in the face, smile and lie
saying everything was alright.
But NO! No more feigning, no more pain
An' this time I'm free, I'm writing myself out.
And using this rope to climb out, see?
Look down on me!
I need your nose to wrinkle every time I do something shitty.
I need your eyes to shine so I have a light to see from.
That's why I joke, your smiles are beacons that lead me from demons.
I've found a whole new meaning,
Who knew something so cliché and repeated could be so freeing:
There was one degree between me and...
Well nevermind that, here I am doing something right.
All of you!
Everybody who helped me get through,
Everyone with every impact and every tap on the shoulder,
Every single look moulded me.
Good, Bad, Ugly, effed up or lovingly.
You helped me.
Stay tuned, I want to return the wealth in twenty-fourteen.
This, right here, is me growing.