Am i here
do i even care
life is confusing
a dark nightmare
Sometimes i find myself
just standing there
wondering if im here
am i still alive

the panic and angst
gets the better of me
where do i belong
what if people find out
im really not that strong

The perception of others
and the reality of the truth
is something that i lost
along with my youth

and i fear everyday
i get too complicated
was it because i was angry
so much of this world i hated

so i curl up inside my insecurities
let them devower all of lifes purity
tomorrow will be better
i shouldnt worry
I shouldnt want to die
in such a hurry

The rythm, boom boom boom.
The rythm like a pencil played onto a students desk.
Its completed by the sounds coming from outside the mind,
being forced into the rythm uncontrolably.
Boom ching, boom ching, boom ching.

Slap out of the blue the book hits the table,
like a horse forced inside a stable.
Nowhere to go, just locked inside.
This great energy longing to be outside.
Stopped so abruptly, by another sound.

Theres a voice in ny head saying sinner your a sinner.
I try to cut it off try to **** it, not to feel it.
It follows me constandly
even in my dreams.
Its getting worse like a curse
I dread its screams.

I sometimes find myself
arguing in the street.
Like a crazy person,
tripping on ****.

Its a virus in my memory
that I cant seem to debug.
The only resort I have come to find
Is keeping myself locked up inside.

My chest feels compressed
as my mind wonders back.
There was a time things were hard
a time I felt depressed.

Sometimes I would run away
to the park in freedom street.
As a little girl
some days felt grey.

Never used to give a ****
as time moved on.
Always acting out
as my yought began.

the plate fell on the ground
and I'm covered in sweat.
In the archives of my mind
theres secrets to be found.

Driving in the car
run inside, deliver and go.
Next location
stop, do the same
with the intention of  no harm.

Repeating this daily
till you drop down,
this repetition
can drive you insane.

The motion of your daily occurrence
carries a mountain on your back.
Not after long your frowning
and dragging your legs.

The coldness of winter
corresponds with the shrewdness of life.
You have to put more then an effort
to get results out of strive.

Its a brutal wheel
that turns round and round.
Its a cycle of pursue
its called being alive.

saturday you said something
when you walked into the room
the music stopped
and time stood stil

my mind got lost
i couldnt hold myself
the cloud covered moon
no longer lit the room

kaleidescope of thoughts
went throug my head

if music had to stop
and laughter became cries
summer turned to grey
would i have you

the thunder in the clouds
set the room alive
panic filled my veins
i was no longer proud

everything i ever new
was set apart
knowledge and strenght
werent important

and now i understand the beat of the heart