sometimes words dont work

& if I did have a choice, I’d never want to live forever, just let me have a voice so I can make my points, I can’t imagine running a race with no finish line, just let me keep my pace & make to most of my time, I love giving but I’m bad at receiving, the truth is, I’d prefer to be the one bleeding, but I’m a paranoid that stays between play and work, cautious and aware, ‘cause I’m afraid of being hurt, which brings me to the issue, and that would be this: how often must I ask myself why I exist? I feel like a freak, this world is a circus, just trying to find myself as well as my purpose.