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Eggshell Treadmill

A spoken word piece. You might not like it.

I feel things that shouldn't matter

But they do to me, and I don't want them to

Which makes me want to punch a wall


I feel like the world is a treadmill

But I got all turned around

And now I'm standing on it backwards

And don't know which way to run


I'm scared of what's ahead

And I hate what came before

But I've always been the kind

To hang on to the devil I know


The devil in my mind is kind

He gives me art, and makes me think I have a soul

But it's a prop

The truth is, I only know how to be 16 years old


I need to stop and go and grow

And learn to feel for real

I know, I know, I know there's steps to take

But I don't, I don't, I don't take them


I stand up on the sides

And try to find a beat that will match up with my strides


But the beat comes from inside

I can feel it begging to rise

But if I give it voice I lose my choice

I'd rather stand inside a room with thousands of open doors

And just stare at them and ponder

Than go through one

For fear that I might wander off

Get lost and scared

And never find my way back

Whether or not the road's less travelled

Doesn't make it the right track


I'm not even 21, and already I feel like

I'm getting old and running out of excuses

When are you finding yourself 

And when are you just failing and losing?


Impostor syndrome gnaws at me

They gave me all of this money

For some reason, that meant something

But won't the second that I leave

And everything I earned

Could look like it was just handed to me

You look at me, and all you see's

A girl that's snow white and soignée


My roots are blue collar

But I talk like a scholar

So nobody notices that almost everything I'm wearing

Came from Walmart

But I want for very little

I'm independent, but I'm not self-made

And I acknowledge that

I'm conscious of it every day


So please forgive me

I don't need or want your pity

I'll just say that if I did

Then who the fuck would give it to me?

Look at me, you're trained to see

That I'm the one with everything

You think I'm on top

But I feel like I'm about to fall off


But I'm just throwing a tantrum

My biggest problem is knowing I really don't have one

If I get stuck, or trip up, it's my own stupid fault

But I am stuck, and I can't reach the emergency stop

(By the way, I'm still on a treadmill

I assume you forgot)


I want to write, but is my writing a vice?

I just whine

And the devil in my mind

Makes it rhyme nice


My work is juvenile

This is the worst one yet

But if the students are consuming

Maybe youth's the best it gets

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Eggshell Treadmill
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