I always choke on my words before I spit them out,
dragging out my sentences,
trying to make sense of what I have to say.

Maybe they don't even give a **** anyway.

At this point,
I have no idea what I'm saying.
My fingers are typing things that I never have time to think about.

Maybe it's not me who's crazy,
I can't be,
can I?

No,
I don't think I'm crazy.

But when I write,
something takes over me.
I suddenly have time to think.

Surely this doesn't just happen to me.
Others must feel the same.
Right?

Why,
I'm supposed to be happy.

I am though,
aren't I?

Is it just the pills?
Who the **** knows,
or really cares anyway.

My fingers are taking place of my head,
I honestly don't know what I'm rambling about.
But in reality,
who the **** cares?