Life is reality except when it's a dream
And I'm not sure if this is who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to cope with the rope strangling my thoughts
I'm afraid of the stranger I see across
I want to play the activist
And bluntly remove lives untruthful bliss
Even happiness is an object created by people
Who envisioned life with ghastliness
And when I approach a corpse of what my future was supposed to be
I can feel my heart running. Fleeing & receding
Bending but purging black truths that I shoved into my chamber of a heart
Because I wouldn't let myself feel the warmth of artificial joy
I crushed it away because I didn't want the pain to overcome me and destroy
Taking over my mental
Infected with the rare disease called  “I don't want to live anymore”
And the doctor gave me medication supplements of hope
That she probably found at a drugstore
And acquaintances wonder why trust is not in my vocabulary
It has to be a real thing, not imaginary
And it kills me to forget
Treating everyone in ways that I regret
I've started suffocating on my bed sheets
From throwing them over me to often to conceal the questions
However, I'll play a cassette telling of my “whys?”
Why do my insides ache ever when I moved to divert?
Fallen angel, your heart is supposed to hurt