His tongue is weak
Stumbling over misguided words
And his mind frantic
Struggling to choose between two things that both turn out
Wrong were all the times when he lost the confidence to go beyond his peak
Hand clutching tight to a note in his pocket
As he prepares for critiques
Oh it's hard to speak
What have I got myself into this time?
I don't want to try so hard just to fall
Stranded outside
a group who's blind
and fails to realize
this sight for sore eyes
How can reflection help when your internal mirrors broke?
He never learned to see himself as more than a joke
bogged down with matters that never mattered to most
Tired, tired of everything that hurts
Of being bogged down with matters that never mattered
I guess that I'll never grow

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