
And I tend to not think occasionally, does that mean I’m not fulfilling my parent’s vision?
Sometimes I feel like I am the bull’s eye because I can feel the world’s precision
And it’s cutting away at me; did you see the small incision?
The cut, the opening, the wound, the mark
The stab that is starting to break my life apart
The stab that can break me before I can even start
The stab that is more than physical, the one that is on my heart
And as I sit back and reminisce about the things I now miss
I noticed I changed as soon as my friend didn’t exist
Does that make me psychotic, demented, unbalanced, or erratic?
No it means I cared, I use to think I was being dramatic
And now I am in denial, maybe I do suffer from depression
Maybe it comes from my aggression towards people or it could be my oppression
I guess I am finally coming out and telling my confession
But it’s left up to me to seek guidance and advice
On how to control my life
And appreciate how much people love me and how much they had to sacrifice
But as life goes on my wounds tend to mend
Because I realized even though he isn’t here, he is still my FRIEND!
