I feel dead inside
Maybe this coffee will wake me up

I feel dead inside
Maybe if I sleep it will go away

I feel dead inside
Maybe this cigarette will perk me up

I feel dead inside
Maybe this liquor will take me away

I feel dead inside
Maybe my friends will cheer me up

I feel dead inside
Maybe a boyfriend will pull me away

I feel dead inside
Maybe if I get help they wouldn't lock me up

I feel dead inside
Maybe I should push some daises up

Nothing seems to be working right
I feel dead inside

I don't care about a lot of things.
That's why the things I care about
mean the world to me, but
they hold a lot of power over me.
Because the things I care about,
are getting smaller and smaller.
And I don't want to lose them,
so I fight to hold on to them.
But even though I fight with
everything that's left of me,
I'm losing people, places, and things
that mean the world to me,
and it makes me sadder and sadder.

tattooed across my hand
it's a reminder.
now you're probably thinking,
"a reminder to what?"

you probably think it's something common like,
"INSANITY to remind you to be insane."
or
the profound few might think,
"INSANITY as a reminder that everyone else is insane."

but, darling,
really INSANITY's a reminder of the fact that
everyone else might be crazy,
and that's even worse.

everyone else might be insane.
you'll never really know.
but the insane ones are the ones
that can trick you,
and damage you,
and break you,
but you never notice until
it's too late.

You see, darling,
I've been tricked,
and broken,
and so unbelievably, damaged.
That I need the reminder,
INSANITY,
tattooed across my hand,
to remind me
that everyone
might be
crazy,
and I have good reasons
to be paranoid.

I see she smokes cigarettes
& I wonder why she wants to die.
She sighs, "Personally,
it's my own method of suicide."
She inhales,
& blows out beautiful smoke rings.
Then she slashes away each one to nothing.
"There," she whispers,
"destruction by the creator."
She smiled softly and inhaled.
I understood what she said.
She was destroying herself,
because she blames herself,
for the final creation of herself.

3 more perfect smoke rings sighed out of her.
They were intense, honest, & powerful,
just like she *was.

My sadness sinks from my head to my toes
and no matter what I do it grows and grows