Oh him? Yeah, we know the type.

Big talk, small walk — all bark, no swipe.

Walks in like the sequel no one asked for,

Sir, you’re not a vibe, you’re a chore.

You flex hard, but babe — it’s giving overcompensate,

Your ego’s writing cheques your skills can’t validate.

You’re the mayor of Gaslight City,

Population: you, and… well, just you, pity.

“Back in my day…” — boy, you’re 32,

Ain’t no glory da...

The world spins on, but I stand still,

A heart that’s heavy, yet no one will.

I wear my smile like a fragile veil,

Afraid to show that I’m bound to fail.

Inside, it’s darker than the coldest night,

A silent scream that’s too weak to fight.

I reach for help, but no hands are near,

The silence deafens, feeding my fear.

The walls close in, but I cannot run,

The pain of a thousand battles never won....