People become distant,
The feeling is persistent.
Cant relate or talk 'bout stuff,
All because deep down - you've had enough.
Enough of this anxiety, of this depression.
I wish to make you a confession:
Never have I ever felt this weird.
And it's exactly what I feared:
My emotions have been cleared.
Continuing is hard, but I guess I must,
'Cause there's this feeling in my chest.
To live, I have to, I can't do it.
And so my identity has split.
This is all I can admit.
Commiting deads of murder to yourself,
Can put you on the naughty shelf.
According to religions, yes, of course,
To follow them is a mind polluting crash course.
But there's some truth, just can't be forced.
And after all, who cares, life is just for living.
To please yourself, turn your eyes to giving.
That's a way to find relief,
Or inside a brain to turn a brand new leaf.