Winter of our discontent

I am so clumsy, but I am so tired.
The strings are taut, and my hands are burning from the abrasion.
The world is turning, and they are slipping. It is leaving me behind, along with my ideals that are scorned.
I haven't been back here for quite sometime, and now I know not why I return.
Motiveless Malignity. Ho! Ho! My honest friend, Iago, 'tis been a while.
In the darkness.
In the abyss.

I'm just not good enough, I've never been.