I guess lifes gotten the best of me
Cuz da littlest of things keep stressin me
It seems like my mind is my own worst enemy
Mentally unstable; unable to straighten myself out
Might as well say "To Hell!" with tryin to find some help
The painting of my eighteen years ain't shaped, its smeared
My pillow: The Witness, being stained by tears
I wasn't handicap or blind but I couldn't stand and face my fears
Now my mistake is clear but its too late to change
Lifes story only races forward when its turns the page
But my book has been charred and burned by rage
Patience thinned so much that i could snap and break
At the littlest thing