Failure

 
I wish I had a weapon; sometimes this pressure kills me,
And leaves a trail of anger and sadness in my heart;
With so much stuff to cope with and feelings that I bottle
Up in my blood like murders of an infamous runner  
I think my sense of balance falls more and more apart.

And all I ever wanted was things to change, get better...
And make the ones around me feel prouder; never did.
So while I’m on these mountains and trying to get higher
My arms get weak and vultures start pecking at them harder
And harder until nothing is really left of me.