They said he was a good man. Why can't I believe them? They say I was good. What does that mean? The definition you find will not match me. I carry scars, resentment for myself. I cannot hear what you say. Words you put together to lighten up my spirits. You said I was good for sure, a symbol of light. I try to deny the negativity that plagues me, I fight it. I ask for examples, you get a little quiet. Truth settles in, I assign myself the label as the worthless. Lower than cheapest dirts. All I can do is offer a piece of my sadness, vague stories of my past. Just a brief glance into my head, can't allow your eyes in for long. Again I'll make my bed lined with a shaky view of the future. Doubts stack up around me. Unstable ground at my feet. I can never find peaceful sleep for too long.