You long to know what i'm hiding inside, forcing me to run and hide.
Isolating the problem, fearing what you'll think.
You're only in luck if you can read what i scribble in ink.
Will what i have to say really intrigue you?
I don't want to be one of your walk throughs.
I struggle to find myself in all of this haze.
My thoughts are beginning to turn into a maze.