Sad But True

Sad but true People are quick to judge, they see my tattoos, my personal art on a canvas of what was me before all the crap has drug me down to the deepest the depths, and yet I manage to always emerge from the pain, loss and heartache. The doc says I have PTSD and bipolar depression from it, although I somehow manage a smile to passersby even if it is fake, I attempt to make others days a little brighter. Drug addiction alcoholism couldn't even hold me down for long because I know I am better than that some days it's a struggle to force myself out of bed but in my head, I sing broken because I gather the shattered pieces and glue myself back together. Sad but true disturbed is my mind in my dreams just a little stronger every day. Purple haze smoke enters my lungs as I lay back listening to sitting on the dock of the bay wanting to be their pole and my toes in water, wondering what tomorrow holds!