Pick up the Pen

It's been a while since I picked up the pen.

It's been a while, I've been stuck in my head.

No where to vent; 

I rearely speak my mind.

No where to go, feels like I'm wasting my time.

I hit the ground running and I haven't stopped yet.

I have goals to achcieve, but I ani't even close to getting the next.

I feel I stuggle everyday just to have it taken all away.

What kind of life is that?

Put others before myslef, my dreams just sit here on the shelf.

I said, what kind of life is that?

I've been pushed down, spit on, yelled at, treated like shit;

There was a time in my life where I could bounce back from all of this.

But what's the point these days?

It's become a hassle just to get up.

No mater how hard I try, I've just been down on my luck.

So I live the day to day, drink to wash the pain away,

Sleep to know that I still dream, sometimes the music drowns out all my screams. 

I need help, but don't know how to ask for it.

Drop my pride and just admit we've all got some shit.

See I'll always be the one to lend a helping hand;

Guess I'm just trying to get good karma man.

My mom says it will all come in time,

But honestly I wouldn't bet a dime on my future happines or peace of mind.

It's sad, but true I think that way.

I guess that's why I picked up the pen today.