[ the relief of scorching my throat ]
My faith in man has abandoned me.
More the more am I tempted by apathy.
Becoming a conduit for indifference,
I cannot accept any form of deliverance.
(Verse 1)
Quiet rage, tearing a lung when it cannot be heard.
Maybe this rage could make me sit up, make me live.
No more could punishment last as my reward.
When do I take, when all I’ve ever done was give?
(Verse 2)
@ImPickle_boy All of us who are artists constantly have to battle the feelings of imposter syndrome. It can feel constant or fleeting, but you’ll always learning your craft. You got this man, keep making that art.