I am sitting here
With eraser shavings piled up
I don’t know what I’m doing
And everything is the same as the page in front of me
Messed up and wiped away

I work as long as I can
Nothing ever works
It just looks worse
I can’t keep up with everyone
You can say I’m wrong
But I can’t help what I know is true

I don’t think I’m good enough
I never really have
And it hurts sometimes when I’m proven right
In everything I do, I somehow loose
So I create these messes
Slowly they pile up
And I remember how lost I really am