Stuck in my head, can’t reach out;
Like a broken record self defeating words do play.
Over and over again they’ll say;
No purpose you have, no rhymes you can make;
Your sincerity is nothing but fake.
Over and over it plays out in my mind;
I wish I could just leave all those thoughts behind.
No purpose they serve, except to run motivation dry;
As tears of frustration and emptiness I do cry.
Feeling so selfish so stuck in my head;
These thoughts would be better off if they were dead.
Unruly habits of a tired mind, the breaking of these patterns
A way I way I must find.
The First Word 