so sad is it to hear
the wailing of the car radio
because what's sad is not their tears
but the ironic pain of which they don't know

you can write about love and happiness
those are life's simple pleasures
but the the depth I have from this emptiness
can not possibly be measured

you think you've felt pain
when the tide in your eyes come in
you think you're insane
because society played you again

I've got some news for you
I won't try to put this nicely
the pain you thought you know
is a piece of this mess that is unsightly

I won't tell you that I'm better
when genetically I'm broken
but I hope that when you read this letter
you won't try to leave it open

I've shown you my crazy
a number of times
my thought are a mess and often hazy
but I'll be out of them in no time