Made: Monday, March 8, 2010

Time: 10:38p.m

This is it—

The final hit.

The game has grown old

And my heart has grown cold.

I picked them off,

Until they turned and scoffed

At my remedial weakness.

It's so hard to speak this;

But it's over now.

No who, what, when, where, how—

I just don't care anymore,

Too numb to be sore;

I fell so many times,

I wrote so many rhymes

For him, them, the "ones,"

Only to be outright shunned.

I can't deal with the pain—

I'm giving up the game.

Maybe it just isn't for me,

Not my right cup of tea.

And I won't cry—

I've already did inside.

I've shed too many tears,

Trying and failing all these years,

Instead I'll stand tall.

Yeah, I'll show them all

Just how great I can be

Without a mask over me.

No more being what I'm not,

No more drooling over who's hot.

It doesn't matter,

Especially not the latter.

Sure, I'm still hurting inside—

Every step committing suicide—

But who cares about that?

I drew the number from the hat

And it said "You lose,"

So faces blend with who's who.

Sure, I'll keep stumbling,

But no more mumbling

Because I can pick myself up;

I don't need help, I can act tough.

I'm finally free,

Though inwardly scream,

Flying free like a dove.

Tch, I don't need love.