Feels like I’m in a fun house hallway

in every direction a mirror

reflecting my failures and shortcomings

and down at the end of the hall

there’s a projector showing my every mistake

on twenty-four seven repeat

with slow motion rewind and commentary

highlighting the most painful seconds

No matter what I do there’s no escaping

any happiness that makes it inside is fleeting

and anyone that ties to join me

can never bear to stay

once they see what I really am

they inevitably run away

All that I exist for is self-torture