"You've got a good head on your shoulders"
Words set in a phrase I always seem
To question
If it's to be told that I do
Then why does my head still seem to bite
Always choosing to fight
Why does my mind run overtime
Murdering all temporary happiness
Why oh why does my mind
Try to play trickster
Saying some fake bliss
Lies within the slicing my wrists
How can this be
That people still believe
A good godly gracious mind still exists
Within contemporary society
Or that even it lies with me
Let it be
That you see
My systematic way of showing you I'm okay
Lying in sinful word
You stare awe
As "this good head"
Is not as graceful as you once saw
Tip toeing  through time
where others tread triumphantly
I tread to try just basically survive
As words be written ****** up
Symphony of pain
People seem stare in awe
As manipulating agony
Seems to stall
This fake sense of happiness
To take its toll
On this so quoted "good head"
Laying upon my shoulders