Losing my mind, this life is nothing but misconstrued blackened hues. Why the **** does everyone cover up truth and trade shoes? I want no part in this mess. If I could Iβd get myself back and be done with this forced petty distress. If I could see the stars in the sky, maybe I wouldnβt think so much about my lack of time. I canβt even appreciate the sunshine. Because all anyone wants is my demise.