MY ENGLISH IS SOOOOOOOOOOO BAD

he befriends with his phone
an armour that cannot defend
even the shakiest of thrones
and the curviest of bends
he's a bore, he has no life
a life himself fails to fulfil
for the better he doesn't strive
he refuse to climb the smallest hills

in his head lies dissatisfaction
haunting him till the day he dies
none of the events are worth a mention
though they come down from the skies
he's often lonely, i really pity
being shunned is his greatest fear
he tries too hard to be witty
cracking up jokes no one would hear

reality or fantasy - he can't decide
he's at the helm of his own world
truth and lies conveniently glide
out from his mouth, ready to hurl
he dreams of being a connoisseur
sans skill, he won't go far
not being honed the way they were
there's no way he'll reach the bar

he's a failure, he's a coward
a disappointment to all his men
his feet are stuck, he can't move forward
he doesn't want to move his den
he'll wither for his sins
unforgivable until the end
his mortal soul will never win
until he voluntarily make amends