. . . If you could read my mind, You’d see a thousand papers Filled with broken poetries And deadbeat proses Full of woeful verses With mournful pieces Of unfinished stories That are yet to be written And failed to be spoken; If you could read my mind, You’d hear horrible screams And earsplitting weeps From shattered dreams, Kept in a nasty notepad, Scribbled on a bed Of bloodstained words, Ringing in my head. If you could read my mind, You’d see the shadows That lurk within me; You’d hear the bellows, Screeching the words “I’m tired,” “I’m a failure,” “I’m stupid –” I know it sounds stupid, It’s pathetically foolish And seems too *******. If you could read my mind, You’d feel the tears I had ever failed to cry; You’d see the people That make the weak weaker; You’d see the monsters That consume my head; You’d hear the hollers That failed to be freed; You’d see the heart That still bleeds and bleeds. If you could read my mind, You’d see the face I’ve failed to show back then, The face I’ve faked back then. If you could read my mind, You’d see a character I had ever failed to become If you could read my mind, You’d be able to read A book you never wished To touch and read, But sometimes I still wish Someone could read my mind