I am the failure.
The words of the wise once said to break the depression, you must kill the apathy with action.
I try to do. Is that my downfall? Try?
My horrible hands stained with the filth of failure;
A constant reminder of my inability.
I have nothing to show,
Nothing to leave but dirt covered relations.
How did I turn into this sappy looser?
What did I do? What didn't I do?
I feel I know the answer, but I don't wish to say.
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