I'm not thinking clearly, still I'm holding on
but only nearly.
At the end of this long and lonely day,
when I've got no more left to give to the people
who can't seem to find their own way,
I'm left cradling the pieces of my fractured mind
that I have to put back together on my own time.
No one wants to hear about my hurts
or talk about my scars.
I guess that's okay, because they wouldn't get it anyway.
I'm walking around with an invisible world on my shoulder.
A world of problems and questions
that have forced my mind to growing older.
My mind is so much older than what they see I am.
They could never comprehend, but it's not like they really give a ****.