Why’s it so hard to sort my thoughts?
There’s smiles and scars, then all gets lost
There’s not one source that’s strong enough
The straw I picked’s not long enough
So it all gets stuck and fades to dust
There’s been no pain; betray my trust
Tell me you love to hate my guts
Just tell me something, make it up
Cause I can’t sit up and pick it up
I try to write but then mix it up
If nothing breaks, can’t fix it up
I don’t have the skill to switch it up
Cause it’s fisticuffs or empty lines
I need the black to flood my mind
I need the red to cull my eyes
I need the pain to dull the lights
I need a dose of all those things
The painful hate and all it brings
It’ll make me write and make me sing
It’ll make me seek to dull the sting
Cause dullness stings and eats at me
It’s boring and can’t preach to me
The fighting is what speaks to me
So, I’ll fight the world or even me

Notes: Very fast paced. It’s meant to be a quick depiction of the feeling and thought, not an in-depth analysis.