Every day I'm falling a little deeper

  The road becoming shale, steeper

  Easy to slip if I don't have a grip

  Which I don't, I let go of all that shit.

  A fork in the road, I choose the hardest

  The path of my own indulgences

  If it was cheddar, it'd be the sharpest

  I could make the art of the lie my lifes thesis

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Haven't had a real thought in years,

  Beginning to wonder if I'm controlled or in control of my fears.

  Envious of the people who let God steer.

  Instincts shouting and raising a riot, I can't hear.

  All reason lost in that oft rembered tear.

  So I'll cauterize the wound, and drawn it in the bowl.

  Melting down gold, to fill these cracks in my soul.

  Full of mixed regret, exacting the highest toll.

  Trying not to sink ever deeper into the depths below the hole.