The Underachiever

I've been in my room a lot recently, Bad habits I've been mixing like an alchemist, Looking at my downfall asking what the fuck was the catalyst, Wondering what happened to me and how I went from my stories protagonist to its antagonist, I never feel adequate and I can't feel passionate either, hoping I can just sleep forever like I overdosed on ether, I'm trying to be my family's leader like Julius Caesar, but I end up that same creature I call the underachiever. Lazy, weak, and sad. It couldn't care about success, status or wealth I mean how could it, it doesn't even care about its self. It tries to be kind but politeness is a grind, How could you be courteous when you've been chewed up and spat out like a pork rind. It has knives in its back and spine Looking like an inside out Porcupine, But it always says its fine even though it is dying on the inside, Its Soul getting beaten and bruised but it can't do nothing but sit at ringside.