Some people think about mental disease
As some type of cool new accessory,
But they don't know the stuff that I've been through,
They've never felt this monster consume you.
It's like being stuck in an iron box
That's tightened with one thousand rusted locks.
I hear the people talking from outside,
They said that they would help me but they lied.
Inside this box I try to find a break,
I don't know how much more that I can take.
The first time that I had to blink twelve times,
The first time that I couldn't write the rhyme.
The first time that I didn't eat at all,
The first time that I heard the razors call.
They never told me that this would happen,
They never said my heart would be blackened.
Some days I feel my fight has turned hopeless,
Sometimes I feel I should just lay to rest.
But I know if I power through the pain,
That someday I might be okay again.
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