Mental health problems
Wish I had wealth problems
‘Money can’t buy happiness’
But it’ll help solve them
I got ninety-nine problems
And my mind’s the worst of ‘em

I’m on a knife’s edge
Staring at life’s edge
I need a side quest
Something to help me escape this mess

We’re all pawns
In a game of chess
Life’s a cryptic crossword
And I don’t know what’s next

They say mental health matters
My mental health’s in tatters
My mind is beyond battered
And my thoughts are ******* scattered

They call it anxiety
It’s quite the complexity
They downplay it in society
No one likes variety

Everyday should be a breeze
I’m the only one I can’t please
My mind is stuck on static
And I feel like I can’t breathe

They blame it on the hormones
They don’t care if you feel alone
Nothing left and no hope
My head’s a ******* warzone

I can’t look on the bright side
I can’t escape my mind’s eye
I wake up and want to die
Forever trapped in the lows and highs

Mental health problems
Wish I had wealth problems
‘Money can’t buy happiness’
But it’ll help solve them
I got ninety-nine problems
And my mind’s the worst of ‘em

you stare at me
from across the room,
like im your rival.

im still not sure
if you hate me
or just dislike me.

maybe you're just waiting
for me
to trip
so you can say --

"i told you so"

we could've been friends --
could've been more than.

what did i do
to get put in this position?
do you even hate me?
am i a rival to you?

because im too tired
of pretending
that there's nothing here.
because the silence
is too loud,
it burns my head.

i want to work this out,
where the static
can turn
to rhythm.

when the silence
finally
vanishes
and the burning
stops.

A thousand people in a street,
A thousand eyes that’ll meet—
A million personalities in a street,

Some to work,
Some to school,
Some to steal,
Some to fool,

Few are drunk,
Few are poor,
Few to lie,
Few to fly.

A thousand sighs in a street,
A thousand sorrows to tolerate,
A million stories incomplete—

Few slept deep
Few wept in a sheet.

Few to study,
Few to work.

A thousand people in a street.
A thousand griefs that repeat,
A million hearts that skip a beat—

I write on paper,
A lot more,
Since the last six months,
It feels better,
Than staring down a screen,
Where I tie my artistry,
To the last echoing words,

I wish I let them pull me out,
Of all this,
Much sooner.

It's hard to trust someone who always lied.
It's hard to love someone who made you cry.
It's hard to care when you want to die.
It's hard to believe when you have no pride.
It's hard to forgive when you already tried.
It's hard to be happy when there are tears in my eyes

There was once a time
when men were championed for being sent off to war
celebrated
for having gone to battle

Should they have survived,
they would come home to their people,
drinking wine and parading about their accomplishments
while everyone gathered to listen to their tales

Yet, today, men are actively discouraged from sharing their battles

and I know,
a breakup,
or a depressive episode,
or even just a bad day
are not on the level of grandeur as a bloodied fight to the death

but even the small victories were once reason for banners to be hung
and the small losses; a reason for mourning

so, please, share your battles, whether they were a win or a loss,
because you never know
which fight will be the one to consume you

i have these voices in my head

with me when i’m awake or in bed
when i’m smiling and happy
they come and break my peace
telling me weird things
that make me lose my ease

they tell me i won’t get better
they tell me i don’t matter
they tell me one day ill be dead
so why not get it over with instead

the voices are evil and cold
but they comfort me when i’m all alone
they tell me to do things to myself
and be sure that no one knows

oh the voices in my head
they walk me to my death