Make It Out Alive

There isn't a place that I hide I'm trapped inside a maze, let me write incase I don't make it out alive Because I feel the storm coming I'm so forthcoming about my shortcomings Exercise my feelings, so even if my brain stops you still hear my thoughts running I've paid for my mistakes, but there's another court summons I'm guilty, i won't lie and say I didn't do it You talk about waking from a nightmare, but I'm living through it Battling demons, fighting depression, how will I cope? Re-reading my rhymes, will they feel what's wrote? Will it be over analyzed? Is the pen too heavy in a hand of pride Is my talent for writing being vandalized? When my demons come, should I stand aside? Too prideful to let them win with ease I grin and believe I'll overcome anything, but something will stop me eventually And that's difficult to swallow mentally If I go now, that means I'll die without kids But I fathered myself, because my biological sperm donor never did Should I hold it in?, am I wrong to let all the details show? Struggled with love and I've been a male hoe That's right, and term you use for a promiscuous female, you need to label me that too When you fell for me, I'm sorry I wasn't able to catch you I'm proud I was good looking and charming enough to get with all the females I got with But I'm ashamed, because I had love In my grasp and dropped it Who am I talking about?, Stacey?, Chantal?, TJ?, Katie?, Zoe?, Or someone different? Is it all?, is it none?, which is the one he's missing? I miss a bit of each, am I wrong for admitting that Read this, I'm just giving facts I've got scars bleeding from a decade ago Have I seen my best days go? I see people cut food with knives And I almost lose the fight It brings back flashbacks of my self-harming past If I do ever relapse, will anyone help me back? Or give up on me and see me as a lost cause? My pad is filled with my lost thoughts I've got over 2000 poems I haven't shown anyone If you read them, you'll see me in many forms My words are shed tears Rebecca, you weren't my first girl, but were my first love, so not much needs to be said here If we ever get another chance, we'll need more than a bed to share We'll need a fancy restaurant, with a holiday destination You're my first love, so of course I'd have high expectations When we split, I instantly hated the next guy you got with And the one after, but when it comes to happiness I'm glad you got it Mom I don't hate you, I just can't forgive you When I look back at what I had to live through Being bullied and laughed at in the foster system Because you were vodka drinking I craved the love you and dad never gave No hugs, no goodnight kisses, because I was in a foster place The devil is still mad that I managed to escape hell I'm mad, because I still can't express myself well I miss her, but I won't put the girls name here It wasn't too long ago, that the picture became clear Some people don't seem to get it I say screw the world, because proving people wrong is my fetish I'm not a good poet, maybe I need to change the way that I write But I'm trapped inside a maze, and I just hope to make it out alive