They say we can make our life to be what we want it to be, Is there any truth to this?
Or is it a hopeless saying in the vain desperation for those in the better place, of feeling better towards those who are struggling, you know those empty platitudes, that only hold meaning to those that utter those words.

If Life really is chosen by our own hand, Does this mean that the world that crumbles below my feet,
Is my own fault, my own choosing, even though being in this place is one of pain and torture.
All I have ever craved is warmth, love, hope, a future, a normality,
All I have ever wanted is a home, a family, a chance to be more then just the dregs of the gutter,

If life is our choosing, if I crave those, why am I here at the bottom,
Why has nothing changed? At what point do we start to chose our path?
I have heard so many times, Only I can change this, get out there, or it will be better tomorrow,

I sit in my warm dark in comfort, I have tried to change, but I still find myself sat wallowing in self pity,
In jealousy as I watch the world around me push forward, doing things I once only ever could dream of,
Thing’s I no longer dream of as the ache becomes a pain,
I have tried and tried, Which tomorrow, tomorrow, or tomorrows tomorrow?

The past two years have awakened my mind to so much, so much I hoped to work through,
Instead I sit here now, and wonder if my chosen path is one I deserve,

What do I need to do to stop this happening? What do I need to change,
I don’t understand where I am always going wrong,
I don’t understand what I am doing wrong?
I don’t understand why my name is nothing but mud,

All I ever wanted was hope and a future,
Now I want neither, its all a big fat lie,