Thou cant have light without
darkness.
Over casting sorrow on your
sweet, sweet smile.

They say it gets easier.
But time doesn't heal all wounds.
It just gets comforting to be as lone.

Roasting on an open fire.
For all to see and cast words
they can't comprehend.

I've been places
God can't go.
But you my love, were always herem

Loneliness is just the state of mind.
You left me in.
Done like the orange leaf.
Holding on, barely.
To the ghost
of a tree that died, ages ago.

Its melancholia.

I cant even get help.
Because I'm scared.
It's just going to happen again.

And I'd rather die.
Then have another doctor
get frisky.
In the mental infirmary.

I've been biting my tongue.
Because I'm well aware to the facts.
No one care when you're "crazy".

You can scream the truth
at the top of your lungs.
Just to fall on dead ears.

We place trust in all the
wrong people.
And I'm ******* over it.

I'd like my life back.
Or some form of it

I have nothing left to fear.
But myself.
And myself only.

My mind's snow globe,
it's all shook up.
All ****** up.

Saturated, in overly emotional inflamy.
Ingloriously low, the pendelum swings.
On the dark side of euphoria.

They say,
Hell is a cold place.
Baby, so am I.

Incinerating in your
cliche chat heads.
Because I have nothing better to do.

And misery likes company.

You can stab me in the back.
As much as you like.
Twist the blade counter clock wise.
If you wish.

Crucify me upside down.
So my mouth can kiss the earth once more.
Hommage to the one true jehovah.

Best witness to your own hipocrisy.
Heathens, as you stone us all to death.

It's always easier to play self righteous.
Especially when money is involved.
But I'd rather worship myself.
Than a schizophrenic with an inflated self ego.

Nero was in the right.
Jesus, your time is up.

Trash Queen euphoria.
Dumpster diving for
day dream mania.

Everything's swell
when you're out of your mind.
I'm good thanks,
Im fresh from the psych ward.

I've left the building.
Flew the coup.
Playing pretend Houdini and disappearing into air so thin.

No one really cares if you're not.
Anyways we're all striving to be living filters.

I'm at a loss.
I thought my looks would excuse my pychopathy.
But everyone is apparently an Instagram model.

Even though they're really only cute.
When I'm desperate.

Jokes on me.

Beauty isn't
something you see.
Solely in a mirror's reflection.

I think it's how
you make me feel.
I really never wanted to be here.
In the first place  

But its okay, when I'm with you.

Sometimes it feels
like there's a cat fight
Over in
the dark side
of my mind.

Me,
Myself
And I.

Each with their own
disorders respectively.
Honestly, its exhausting.

Guess I'm guilty.
By disassociation.

I'm sorry.
I don't need to live off
my preteen fame.
To fuel my borderline
personality.

Take a ******* seat.
There's not enough room
for the both of us.
Aren't you supposed to be at a meeting anyways?

The sun doesn't shine on one for ever.
I know this for certain.
Read a book, go to therapy.
Get the **** over yourself.

Darkness is coming for you.
Your lyrics are.
a redundant wheel of bullshitt.

Cry on *****.
I don't need ******
to make a decent beat.
Nice track marks though. .

The adventures of a real life
psychopath
Gallivanting about.

Just having
a grand ole time.

The prozac mania;
man it's euphoric
serene dream mania
in a magic
little pill.

The most invigorating
of nervous breakdowns.

Isn't that my reputation
anyways?
Oh.
I'm sorry.
Did my hive of personalities;
make you feel uncomfortable?

Do you need a tissue?

Well Bub, that makes four of us.

Don't underestimate me.
I play stupid cause I'm pretty.
It's what's expected of me.

Pendulum swings,
Channeling my
twin persknalities.

The master of puppets
ain't got **** on me.
I'm pulling my own strings.

While in transcending in
euphoric bliss . Yo.
You're either with me.
Or against me.
Fam but either way move up
or shut up.

The only game I'm playing is ouija. .