I take my pills to subside the pain,
But the dark clouds are just waiting to rain,
Therapy appointments medication and all,
They are like my crutches without them I fall,
My mind goes at such a pace,
But it’s loosing in a one man race,
Competing with myself to change who I am,
I’ve tried so hard I don’t know if I can,
They say death isn’t the answer then we’ll what is,
I’m dead inside hate and feeling like this

Just because we have a picture,
It doesn’t mean we’ve got the whole story,
Remember that picture is a moment in time,
A picture you shared makes me compare your life to mine,
A picture alone of an empty field,
The photographer doesn’t know what it can yield,
I’ll see something different to someone else,
Puts me in that moment all by myself,
Trying to use all my senses,
But we all see the picture through different lenses,
One might see happiness, another despair,
Wonder what’s really going on there,
A picture doesn’t mean we have the story,
But we can share a moment celebrating different glory.

Funny thing about pen and paper,
I can write down the stuff I wana think about later,
when I was to scared to speak or shout,
the pen and paper would always come out,
a way of communicating with myself,
stuff That I couldn’t say out loud was safe on a shelf,
a note on my phone or written words to burn,
secrets of my mind I never wanted others to learn,
I’ve done some good and I’ve done some bad,
but my worst trait is a I make others sad,
I never meant to hurt anyone else,
but the pain inside me I’m just hurting myself,

The demon is back he’s here,
he’s back and he’s deep inside,
defeated the angel who couldn’t handle the ride,
he swallows and consumes all the angels hard work,
leaving him exhausted laying in the dirt,
the darkest battles are inside our head,
and always worse when I get into bed,
I can’t stay awake but too scared to sleep,
laying awake not knowing how to speak,
the nightmares the terrors,
bed left soaking with sweat,
but the demons rise and they aren’t even wet