So many paths and all of them are planned.
What do I do about every short hand?
I guess I know a little about their master plan.
But with all of their hidden agendas where the **** do I stand?
No one understands what is is to be me.
Everyone says they know me but it’s just versions that I’ve been.
So how do I find myself and regain what I lack?
I lost every part of who I was and I just want to get it back.
What was the point of planning out someone else’s life?
They should have just let me succumb to the knife.
Never truly happy cause I always lose it all.
They knew it was only a matter of time till I fall.
But I keep falling and getting trapped in this sequence.
Who the **** even lives like this?
I’m finding that there are more enemies that I never even met.
Why the **** are so many people out to get me i’m filled with regret.
Their plans were just to use me for their own sick gain.
Why use someone for power? I’m going insane.
I’m so sick of the torment and all of the lies.
I feel like so many people are wearing a disguise.
I can’t tell who I am anymore.
I have nothing to say because I’m consumed in this petty *******, I’m more or less a bore.
So how do I get away and live the rest of my life?
Something tells me I won’t get very far because I’m always left thinking about the knife.

Every path feels like it’s blocked.
All I see is smoke and mirrors.
Are there any open doors?
Or am I trapped in this cycle of suffocating suffering?
Maybe on the outside it doesn’t seem bad.
But in a sociopathic state, nothing ever really gets to you.
So how did I get this low?
I hit rock bottom and I never learned how to pick myself up.
Just fragments of a seemingly happy life.
Was this life ever a good one?
Or was it all a facade?
Just for those against me to gain what they needed?
All I see are liars, fakes and thieves.
Keeping my life an illusion while everything is falling apart at the seams.
I can’t hide in my dreams.
There’s no escape from the fear or the problems that never cease.
So why am I always stuck in a downwards spiral.
It’s not denial.
It’s a vicious cycle of fuckery.
And I can barely see or make it out to breathe.
It’s hard to conceive but it’s my life and I feel like I have nothing but me.
But do I even have myself?
I’m somewhere trapped inside this shell.
These disorders got the best of me.
Now I can’t see who I grew to be.
Everything always gets lost or stolen.
And I don’t think I’ll ever have it in me to be golden.

Will i ever find another sound in the airwaves?
This petty tragedy is driving me insane.
And i'm left wondering if there's hope for another day.
Is there another way?
Or will i be kept more so in a sociopathic state?
Most of the time i'd rather be dreaming than awake.
Because people come and go, and no one ever stays.
But what feelings are locked away deep inside?
It keeps getting stolen so i guess i should just hide.
I feel like i'll always be thinking about my demise.
Because nothing will bring my true self back, not even sunlight.
So why was i almost always unaware about the fight?
I'm so blinded by all of this that it seems like there are only enemies in sight.
So as i try to brush off the ashes of this mess.
I'll try to be happy and do away with the stress.
If only i could regain what was once locked inside my chest.
Maybe then i could find someone and be done with all of the tests.

Will I keep walking down this path alone? I can’t tell if what’s coming back to life is my heart of stone. My bones can’t withstand the cold. And I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way home.

Standing here alone. It’s breaking my bones. Will I ever find another to hold? Or will I end up cold and searching for my way home? I guess time will tell what’s in store. I just hope I find an open door.

Things seem like they’re starting to look up.
But I don’t think I’ll feel another’s touch.
I don’t think I have it in me to love.
Or make it feel like the stardust from above.
So I guess I’ll just be standing in the rain.
Trying to get up before this mess drives me insane.
At least it seems people are done with the games.
So in the meantime I’ll pick myself up off the ground.
As I try to find a happier sound.
Maybe one day someone will keep me around.
But until that time comes I’ll keep trying to be found.