We Do It to Ourselves

for the guys who feel bad,

who feel ashamed

and tiny.

for the ones who never made it out

complete

and saved face.

for those bastards roaring in bars

somewhere in cold frosty nights.

for the guys who loved sometime

and

it was only passing

and now are feeling

like shit.

i hear you.

for the schmucks who believe they can make it 

out

of the tunnel alive

guess what?

there's a tunnel after that one on the other side.

overwhelming isn't it?

but you'll keep going

because you keep believing

and that's admirable.

i question it.

but know that there's no other way around it.

you've got to pass through that shit-box

with one hand in front of the other

ready to be pinned to the tile wall

by oncoming traffic.

for the guys who are weak,

like me.

i feel you.

it's a questionable way to exist

with this constant overbearing thought.

that honesty will get you somewhere.

the only spot it gets you is back into another tunnel.

for the guys who feel claustrophobic in here

with me

as we reach blindly in front of us

hoping that we don't  miss a step

lose our footing

and end up dead.

i understand it.

even if the light glimmering at the end

is the reflection of a beer can in the middle of the road

you've got to hope for something

or else you might as well lay down and die.

no one is going to save you.

you are all alone in this.

and even when you put your heart out

it'll get trampled on

so keep it in your jacket

so you can eat it 

when you starve.

i hear you guys.

i hear you screaming.

i'm screaming too.

can you hear me?