I get high to get by.
It's the only way I see,
to ease the pain that's slowly
growing inside of me.
My friends can't stand the change,
they give me misguided looks,
they seem to look at me
like my face is full of hooks.
I hate to see them judge me,
but they don't really know,
I've found a path to happiness,
but it seems so false and slow.
They think I'm like a stoner,
smoking myself to space,
but really, I'm a loner,
looking for an embrace.

The only place I feel safe,
is tucked inside his arms.
I feel like a helpless waif,
so in need of his charms.
Cuz my parents bring me down,
and I'm unsure of my friends,
could anyone accept me,
without going through a cleanse?
Cuz I'm done with faking happy,
for everyone else's sake,
this little slice of happy
is for me, only, to take.

I don't know how to tell you,
that it's so hard to get by,
and if there's one thing that I've realized,
it's that I only smile when I'm high.

Regardless how precise the assay of their life,
Most men must remain an enigma;
Their motivation fired by inner strife
A polymorph for which no sigma,
Nor algebraic symbol will suffice.

No If and then which personality
To a course of action thus relates,
Nor can it be hypothesized conditionally,
The turmoil emotion intrinsically creates,
When alone they stare into death's reality.

Two dimensional is the biography of any man.
We see his length and width, never grasping depth,
Though fortune deems we live within his span.
Much like this into my life have crept
Those I love, yet may never understand.

Noticing the crossing line
the dividing point of yours and mine.
Noticing the empty space
that mutual zone, that hidden place.
Staring blankly at that line
we know we never will collide.
Staring at that empty space
never standing face to face.
Running in a parallel line.
Waiting for things to be fine.
Running always for my life
Trying to escape the strife.