Backlash

You know? I'm tired of lighting the world with tiny glowing screens.

I'm tired of fake men, women, and all those inbetween who don't know how to turn on

Goddamned light but have the audacity to complain about the dark.

Like, what do you want? Make up your mind. If you want help, get it. 

If you don't, don't even start.

I'm Fucking Frustrated And You're The One Who Caused It. 

Don't tell me to calm down when your the one who starts shit. 

Fucking counterfeight hypocrite. Bit by bit I'll make my way

out this pit, this moonlit slump telling me to quit and submit. 

I'M TIRED OF BEING PASSIVE. Passing and lacking 

acting lasting nothing but days at a time, trashing a nervous system 

that I can't even call mine. 

"I'm Fine" 

Are you? Are you really?

Go ahead, tell me again, I can do this shit ALL day,

Put Up Your Facade, Spray your venom and pay respects to some God.

Tell Me I'm Wrong! Prolong some inevitable death, Write your song. pray for piece of mind

because at the end of the day I'm sure that's where you belong. Well So Long.

I'm still here standing strong.

I'm fucking done. You can't tell me I haven't won. 

This is my life. Let me live it.

Nothing more to be said.