"Hey Ryan, it's been a while
About two years by my count.
How's it going, how's world your growing?
You seem to be writing a bit more often,
Trying to write up a story that's rotten.
They don't believe in you, they don't need you.
Nobody would search if you fell off,
Nobody would be calling the dogs.
Burn up all your thoughts with one Molotov.
You're the most optimistic for all you knew,
The most pessimistic when it comes to you."
Do you blame me? You can see it too.
No one has to believe but myself.
Everytime i was put out on a shelf
I'm the one who let it happen,
Continue to write for sanity,
While they all laugh, until I can see who's laughing.
You want to try to hold the stress I'm handling?
We've been through a lot, you're tired too.
When I'm looking at me, I'm looking at you.
"Acting like a noble writer, you just want fortune"
I wouldn't mind it after carrying you, being tortured.
"Torture. That's funny,
you keep acting like everything's fine."
I smile to help others deal with their minds.
"No, you smile so they don't know you're dead inside."
Fine.