There’s something that I have to say—
I was wrong, again.
Not only am I blindly stumbling down a dark alley
But I’m also aimlessly traveling on a desert road
With the loud roar of a broken engine.
So really,
I’d be better off walking.
I shouldn’t have walked away from you or anyone else
In the first place
But, to be quite honest, my world is shrinking.
My outlook on life is getting smaller and smaller
And pretty soon, I’m afraid, there won’t be anything left.
Sure, I’m walking now,
But pretty soon, I’ll be crawling
And then slithering like a snake.
I actually wouldn’t mind being a snake.
If I had a choice, I’d be a cobra so I can scare things away.
But that’s my point—I’m too comfortable with getting smaller.
I’ve grown accustomed to the black hole
With a key grip on my life and I’ve grown accustomed to watching people vanish.
Cowardice Cobra,
Trapped Cobra—that is exactly what I fear.
There’s something I should have done—
Fight, but, I fear my venom has lost its potency.

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