nekon

I'm stuck in the middle, tearing in two, Tell me what to say or do, Cause it's so hard to tell just what will happen, Who'll be the next that I'm gonna madden, And when this will just be sorted out, Before my rage escapes in a shout, And reveals my weakness to the world, No calm to shield, no defense to hold.

I just want to be locked away, And forget all the shit from today, And the last, the first, the next, Immerse myself in a piece of text, Fantasy will just protect me, Hide inside so no on can see, And hope when I return from said enclosure, All this mess will have blown over.

You recite parodies of my being, and smile like you've done no wrong. You say those words over and over, sounding like some twisted song. And as I stand and listen, seething, you turn and ask me why I'm bleeding. I'm sorry to inform you, sorry that I have to tell, but if you think it works that way, then you can just go to hell. You don't stab me in the back and ask me why I'm bleeding, or get outraged when I start to retort. My reaction is your retribution, for it's my last resort. My resort to stop my anger, My resort to stop my pain, All brought on from your actions, Justified still within your twisted brain.

My depression was unplanned, Unsubscribed yet on demand, Necessary to show to me, The things that I needed to see. These thoughts in my head that only exist, To cause me pain and mental fits, May cause insight to my fears, But cause those gone to reappear, To breed paranoia and distress, Adding to my life's mess. I complain and moan and bitch and groan, I scream and cry and rage and lie, But through this all I know just how, That these feelings are passing, momentary, thoughts brought on by the darkness of the time, and the darkness of my mind.