My mind is like a group home,
my thoughts need special attention,
And a lot don't know each other too well,
constantly asking where you're from.
I'd refund my life quickly
if I had a refundable coupon.

I cross the line like everytime
I go outside when I fake a smile,
I'm dead inside, but act so alive
for most of the time inside my life;
As I love to pass the time like it isn't mine.

A lot of people think that's strange,
well others tell me not to think that way.
But I can not escape,
how tortured I am inside dark
spaces of my brain.
Because I don't choose to complain,
I try to contain, all the crazy thoughts
that try to give me a strain.

I'm like a lace tied to my thoughts,
not supposed to leave my mind,
They stay there by default,
better them staying at peace
Than them to causing assault,
so I lock them inside a vault.
Throwing the keys away, making them ghost,
I'm a little mental, what I self diagnosed.

I might be ill,
thinking I'm sickened by my mind.
Within it there's silent chaos inside,
so if I open it up, it might not be
something you don't like.
But that also becomes my creativity by design.

So I'll just end this rhyme,
letting my mind rest.
I gave you food for thought,
hoping it's easier for you to break down
and digest.