there is a buzzing in my ear
some scribbles on a page
it's getting hard to hear
is it rage?
no, perhaps it's sorrow
though it doesn't feel blue
maybe i'll feel better tomorrow
but wait, how many years have i been through?
i grip my head, a recognition
i can't recall the feeling of joy
a melancholy disposition
few things i can enjoy
ah, i understand now
this feeling is the lack
i could feel, if i ever knew how
my world shades of grey and black
i've found one way to feel
something small and sharp
i guess it's not ideal
soon found to be a scarp
underwater, but not quite drowning
more like drifting
much time spent clowning
so tired of shifting
i was always set to fail
nothing new
blood follows me in a trail
atop a tall roof, what a pretty view
