I'm dying inside
lying inside
pretending I'm not just along for the ride.
I'm smiling outside
I'm faking my pride
walking around like there's nothing to hide.
And there's so much more to tell too.
I'm just not sure how to be honest with you.
My heart breaks
my body shakes
and when I try to tell you
my voice quakes.
My eyes can see that it's really just me
unable to let go and actually be free.
Trapped inside of this beautiful mind
trying to pretend I'm not one of a kind.
And I know the things I want from you
I just can't have them until I face what's true.
Until I'm actually ready to start over some day.
Which all sounds good until it's time to pay.
Then it's easy to go back.
It's easy to backtrack.
As if I weren't able to fight off my own attack.
A one man self destruction crew
same old story
just made to feel new.
Same guy
still trying to fly.
Still running in circles
still stuck in a lie.
Still a dreamer
still a believer
still holding on
still born to be a leader.
Yearning to be free.
Of the pain
of my brain
of everyday feeling the same.
Looking for escape
for a small break
searching for something
other than heartache.
Starving for attention
lost in contention
hoping and praying
for a sliver of redemption.
When will it all stop?
When will my life change?
And why does facing the truth always feel so strange?
But it's not all a lie.
I've given at least half a try.
And you know,
it kind of feels good inside when I cry.
To feel that release.
To let it all go.
But I always wonder,
is it all just for show?
Pretending to be,
anything but me.
Holding on to a vision
of what used to be.
Holding on
to what I want to see,
because without the pain,
then who would I be?
What then
would be my inspiration
if I was no longer drowning in desperation?
What would I blame if I freed myself from all of this frustration?
And how am I supposed to just pick up the pieces after all this devastation?
What would I write about
if I finally found a way to let go of all this self doubt?
What would I use as a muse if I was no longer perpetually confused?
And what if I fall again?
Am I finally willing to see this thing through to the end?
How does a man continue to stand in the face of a self imposed backhand.
Trying so hard not to drown in a crowd of people who only know how to back down.
Trying to stand up with a weight on my neck that feels like a thousand pounds.
And what do any of these words even mean?
Should I keep them hidden, never to be seen?
After all, I wrote them for me
But maybe it's something you need to read?
Maybe my pain is intended to show, that deep down inside you already know.
That pretending to be perfect is never the way to go.
That broken is better.
That not fitting in is the new trend setter.
To show off the insides of my brain while proving to the world that I am actually still sane.
And then… just for fun…
I’d bet that you feel the same.