If I told you that I felt this way, you'd think I'm crazy.
I feel this bubbling pain inside me, it's like I'm feeling hazy, the confusion and the lack of knowledge drives me up the wrong road.
But what If I told you how I felt, and that I wanted help?
What if I told you I wanted to conquer these demons and bury them in the ground with dwelt, would I even feel helped?
I grew up with the passion to make other people jealous of the things that I've conquered and banished. I let go of my ambitions and my strives to be judicious 'cause the angels and the demons fought so much they made me vicious.
My one question is, why?
Why the fuck do I feel this pain inside, the one that made me write out this whole stupid fucking rhyme. The one that made me fade out and cease the will to fight. Maybe I should just shut up, crawl into a corner, and hide til I die.
I'm used to that.
This game I'm playing has an end, and I'm afraid to admit that there is no good one, no chance to mend and fend, for myself and for my friends and for the ones that make me send every ounce of love I have left in this cold disheartened disfigurement you call my mind, I rend. (Some random bs I wrote idk)