My life: I’ve been “looking on” but there’s no "bright side"
I’m everywhere but never in my right mind
And I don’t want to think of what you all just might find
There’s no light surviving me

Maybe this is all I’ll ever be when I am loveless
I can only be what you could see, so I am nothing
I know what I need, but though you reach to me, I shun it
Maybe it’s just me… maybe it’s just me

Never mind the maybe, plainly, it’s me

I never want play the victim, but I make decisions
The are based in issues that remain unfixed
So maintain your distance, I stay suspicious
Forgive me, 'cause I don’t think I get forgiveness
My village hidden where the mist is thick
So don’t make the trip, ‘cause I’ve slain the bridge
And I place my triggers on a vacant list
And I pay my therapist to spray with me with it
So let me give you one glimpse
Most of my life is a fight to be noticed
No spotlight, no right to your focus
Pops taught me I shouldn’t like my emotions
Bottle it up like wine, or a potion, cyanide, poison
Pop it, pour me a shot
It might kill me or choke me
But that’s the cost to be noticed
Trying to prove I’m alive to the people who broke me
This life is a steady performance, full of confetti and ornaments
Plenty embezzled identities, ready to sport ‘em
Rocking so many assortments
I’m the imposter, all my distortion's
Forcing the soul to be “formless and void”
I’m quoting the Torah:
My mind is like life before “let there be light”
Let me light the menorah
If I said what I meant, I know ya’ll wouldn’t get it
We partly just selfish and I’m no exception
My pen is candle, waxing poetic
Composing em’ flowers, extracting my essence
My fear and obsession's squeezing my neck
Unbelievable tension, it feel like depression
But clearly, sensing it festering deeper
In levels beneath my perception
The older I’m getting the more of the stench I’m detecting
The more paranoia I end up collecting
If only you knew ‘bout the thoughts I’m protecting
I bet you’d regret that you'd ever respect me
I live in a secret society of frequent anxiety
Keeping it hush like we speaking in library
God blesses the piety, bless his psychiatry:
Demons compete with the SSRI in me
It’s better unsaid- don’t express it entirely
I’m even appalled by the things in my diary
Esteem has been dying; don’t you need to lie to me
I’ve been "dead irrelevant,” keep all my ivory
I’m kind of alive, I’m outside looking in though
A virus, like “I want to run through your windows”
I’m not suicidal: not trying to be cynical
I just hate how it takes us to die to be visible