Open up Word and start the *******.
Because I have things to say but no one’s listening.
Only me, and I hear it all too well.
Buying all the ******* my inner demons sell.
For as much as I talk to myself,
you'd think we'd be friends.
Instead I start swinging
until there's blood on my hands.
I’m at war with myself but it can’t just be me,
to look into the mirror and hate what they see.
I feel so ugly. Lost in the hopelessness.
Lungs please forgive me I’m only trying to cope with this.
If there’s a purpose to anything I’m struggling to find it.
Stop pushing your pills on me, I’ve already tried it.
The days go by but they all feel the same
When you’re stuck in the cycle, playing the same game.