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I can only imagine how this must look to you:Thin as a rail, frail, pale, and moving at a snail's pace across a crowded room. Stuttering and soaked in sweat.I swallow all of my regrets while I bite my tongueFor all the things that I've never done or that I thought but never said.Some people make an art of watching life pass by.Not me, I watch the watchers, I'm that far behind.With so much time and effort growing up,You'd think I'd take the time to grow a spine.You would think I would've at least fucking tried.I can only imagine how all of this must sound:Mumbled and jumbled words stumblingTumbling from my awkward, clumsy, and bumbling mouth.Thoughts forcing themselves out in words, composing incomplete sentences.There is no sense to it.They're likely better left unheard.Some make a science out of keeping their heads down but I've one-up on them, because mine's buried underground.With so much thought put into what's been said,Its likely best if I don't make a sound.I'm better off fading right into the background.It's not about self-doubt or deprecation,It's more about knowing my limitationsAnd learning how to crawl between all my destinations,And learning to be patient about my frustrations. From Letras Mania