I have a lot of problems.
Except it's just me.
I like to complain,
It's something I always do.
Not about my feelings.
That's something I never tell you.
I keep those locked in a safe.
But I like to complain about my day.
What others did wrong,
What I do right.
The reason why I got into another fight.
But I never explain both sides.
I've not been wronged,
I am the bad.
I forget to explain the reason why I'm mad.
I'm mad at me and not at them,
I'm not the victim.
Don't you understand?
I can suffer and explain the pain,
But I am the real reason why I am this way.
I'm filled with anger and hate.
Running out of time, but only because I'm always late.
I'm always in last, though it's not that the deadline comes too fast.
I'm too far behind.
I can't keep up.
I fall behind and down.
And maybe one day,
I'll never get up.
