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.