Outlier

There's an allure to dying
When everyone's close to the finish and you haven't crossed the starting line
Then the point is lost
I am an outlier
My head is overheating from overthinking
And I don't have the means to fight the fire

So I kindle it
And I die a bit

I was waiting for a sign that it was the right time
And the hands on the clock got tied up
The fear that dangles failure in front of my eyes
Sneered about how I'm always fucked

Some angel paces in the corner
I do not have a quarter of the strength needed
To convince it out of sight

Is there really reward for being precocious
If it comes at the expense of untreated diagnosis
When every fixation becomes a stab wound?
Loss of blood in the dark side of the bedroom

And is there moving forward with the confidence of an earlier rendition of the self?
Without feeling like you regressed into the worst time you had spent?
Though it feels better knowing you were happier at that end

I was waiting for a sign that it was the right time
And the hands on the clock got tied up
The fear that dangles failure in front of my eyes
Sneered about how I'm always fucked