the old saying

It's like the old saying goes
You reap what you sow
And now your crops have gone cold
And over and over
The cycle survives because of the shape of the struggle
And the process tries to cross over the threshold
And it fails sometimes

But everything's optional
And so is
Deciding to act like a bitch
And fucking
crying about everything
All the time
I'm better
Than that
I earned the right
By

Pulling me by the neck and dragging me
Out of the wreckage of a sunken ship in the deep
The struggle stays real but it gets to be smaller
We all get down
On ourselves
As we get older.
And we will all
be.