Thirty-Five

I never expected to live to thirty-five
I anticipated death with bleeding eyes
Cold and alone while none realized
Nobody remembering me to eulogize

Every year beyond that a free play
While self-hate within a stowaway
My brain churns in radioactive decay
Ignoring I feel I’ve overstayed

I watch from the outside
As inside I feel the backslide
I’ve never once felt qualified
Regardless of victories identified

Everything I finish I find total shit
All praise I see as counterfeit
I see all compliments fully unfit
Though feigned acceptance I emit

A surprise addition to the equation
Gives me forward moving persuasion
A truly compelling dissuasion
A seriously unbelievable occasion

But none of that seems to have mattered
My soul still longs to be shattered
My blood still hopes to be splattered
Regardless of the pitter-patter

I focus on wearing my mask
While quietly killing my flask
Trying to succeed in each task
Doing whatever it is they ask