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I can’t do it dear father

I don’t have what it takes to compete

I’ve filled your ears with lies

The promise in my eyes

An unintentional deceit

 

I’ve lost faith in myself

Have found self-loathing

My nonexistent progress

It’s the chief cause of my lack of stress

 

Vulnerable to procrastination

Apathy and distraction

I’ve hit rock bottom

Have lost all momentum

All sensibility

There’s no trepidation of failure

No troublesome sleep

No anxiety, no searing fear

 

I can’t meet your expectations

I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me

The results will be disappointing

Not even close to what you’re anticipating

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