Put in too much effort
to just give up,
but lord knows I still will.
“Born a quitter, died a quitter”
will be written on the stone above my grave,
Maybe things would be different
if I could control what I crave.
I’ve never been able to listen
every line sounds the same
carved out a role for myself in the snake pit
by now I barely notice their fangs
no more opening my mouth – end transmission –
I finally know when to quit the game.

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