Is pain really worth suffering so much that we're willing to loose it all?
Pills, drugs, alcohol break us down till we crawl.
Tears running down my face, haunting images of the past,
existing in the presence of others as a cast.
There is no therapy for me, for what I've seen and done,
anyone else would find the answers at the end of a gun.
I dare not cheat the one's who care for me or might even love me,
it is the only things that keeps me an obligated detainee.
What am I to do? To bear this suffering and no sanity for release.
My turmoil ignored by most is my curse,
I must endure the reality though be it perverse.
Justified anguish is obvlivious for most,
my burden to bear alone, illusive as a ghost.