I’ve lived my whole life afraid, it’s time for me to be brave.

I search for the light switch, but it’s not there.

The papers, the documents, the applications and forms,

They swim around in my corrupted mind.

I can’t find my talent, I’m not enough.

I try again, I fail again, I use the same technique again.

I have nothing to lose, except my existence.

I want to be known. I have to fight for my memories.

If I don’t find myself soon, I’ll suffocate in an unknown memory.

This doesn’t really make sense, does it?