Knocking.

The writing's been on the wall since the day that I was born.

I tried to choose a path but both my head and heart are torn.

I try to clean the wreckage of the mess that I have made.

But the fragments cut my fingers, though my debts have long been paid.

Cobain said it's better to burn out than fade away.

But I've already burned out, my smoking hands are on display.

I forever bemoan this everlasting tedium.
I'm neither high or low, I'm somewhere next to medium.

I've searched high and low for some form of content.

Hundreds of troubles I'm gifted with, I try to circumvent.

They say I need to change my thinking, change my train of thought.

But how can I do something different when this is all that I've been taught.

I really, really want to change.
I want to be someone else, yet I want to be the same.

I'm always loyal to myself because I'm all I've ever had.
I can't betray myself and put a knife in my own back.

I used to throw silent prayers up to someone in the sky.
But I don't think they were listening, they never did reply.

I've forever stared at glasses always half empty.
The devil in my ear has always tried to tempt me.

People have come and gone and left me on my own.
And of the few who stayed, their relentless superficiality I've outgrown.

Nobody ever told me, I wish that I had known.
That chances are few and far and so easily blown.

I've knocked and banged and kicked at life's door for so long.

But nobody would answer, I must have been knocking wrong.

And now through the darkness the door is ajar and I hear voices beckoning my name.

I'm yearning to walk through it.

But if I do....

Everything will change.