I write for me, don't care what you believe.
Don't care if you read this or not, I've achieved
a level of thought you can not imagine.
The raven expresses what I am dispatching.

I don't do this for fame, don't care about cash.
I write what I feel, I don't want to hold back.
For this kind of work we all know the returns.
No money in hand, just food for the worms.

The pain in my soul remains my dictator.
He lashes me daily, it's my motivator.
He keeps me on edge while I work every day.
Looking over my shoulder, expecting the hate.

I put pain to the page to teach him a lesson.
But he's got a habit of leaving me stressing.
He beats me on days when I wanna give in.
And he laughs in my face whenever he wins.


I sit in my car and I listen to beats,
no I'm not a showoff, just trying to be me.
It's my therapy, please, I don't need your attention.
My issues are mine, not for your entertainment.

I live on the edge of a sharp ****** knife.
One side spirals low, the other flies high.
The blade in the middle keeps me normalized.
And pain, he reminds me that I'm still alive.

Alive but not living, but that's gonna change.
Cause I'm searching my soul for the name of this pain.
He hides his name well behind my disorders.
I'm forced to confront them, reach over the borders.

I'm borderline crazy and I'm ready to steal
back the dictatorship, put pain under my heel.
I'll beat him someday til he wants to give in.
And I'll laugh in his face when I finally win.

My mind's on a roll, just want you to know.
I'm high on this high feeling burning my soul.

My head in the clouds, you seeing me now?
I'm up on this pedestal looking around.

Burning my cash, driving too fast.
Watching you struggle with me makes me laugh.

I'm feeling ok, no I don't want you to stay.
I'm seeing you ghost me so I walk away.


Rain in my skies telling me lies.
Telling me I need to sit here and cry.

Feeling defeated, my words were conceited.
I wish the things that I said could be deleted.

I am in pain. I'm feeling insane.
Only the scars of my actions remain.

I'm spiraling low, just want you to know
I drown in the depths of the well of my soul.


I'm high then I'm low, just a vicious cycle.
I chase it each day as I try to feel normal.

I feel ripped in two, both sides have been cut loose.
Up then back down, this cycle's my noose.

I'm back up again, wasn't part of my plan.
I'm trying to cope with it the best that I can.

It's the end of the light, I'll be restless tonight,
til tomorrow returns to bring back the same fight.

Naked and curled, I lay there dejected.
Steam in my face, all thought is infected
with rivers of blood down the drain, I'm affected.
Suicide thoughts in my head are infective.
Head on my knees, lost in my own perspective.
Hot water beats down on my back, I've neglected
these thoughts for too long, they rise up and object. It
takes no time at all to feel disconnected.

Walking the halls, I feel too connected
to beats in my ears, my tears, I reject them.
I look down the stairwell, I just want to end it.
The things that I feel most days go undected.
I just want to let go, I feel too rejected
by anything good and I'm overprotective
of my broken pieces that create my perspective.
Takes no time at all to feel disconected...

I choke on the words tht fill up my head.
Panic it rises to step on my neck,
to hold back the things that need to be said.
Things I should speak, but end up writing instead.

Questions I know that I must vocalize.
Like bile inside, determined to rise.
Choking them down, I internalize,
convincing myself of my own stupid lies.

Delusional, dysfuctional, sick in the soul.
Unstable, unable to ever be whole.
Broken and beaten, my minds on a roll,
to bury any light in a dank empty hole.

Lost to an endless beautiful ache,
distressed by the shattered void left in my wake.
Pieces of hope that are blackened by pain.
Never again shall I truly be sane.

There's beauty in darkness, or so I've been told.
But the darkness in me that has taken it's hold
is ugly and toxic, burns down to the bone.
It creeps up the veins, a disease ridden mold.

These pitiful lies serve in a special way.
They keep hidden everything that I should say.
Hide and seek is their favorite game.
Hiding me is the ultimate play.

This is my choice to make up these things.
To excuse myself from chasing my dreams,
or proving my truth by facing the seams
that make up the corpse of all that is me.

Stitches to show that I'm not at all perfect.
Facing that truth for you should be worth it.
Choosing to speak, to face you in person,
might just be salvation for the me that I torment.