• Written by Maverick
What's happened with this, conscience of mine? I can perceive, yet I'm numb with compassion indifferent
Has it vanished? Or shifted and expanded with malignance? Dark energy, maybe I am it's dominion?
I can't quite put my finger on it; "You're out of touch." Well, I assume my family isn't
'Cause they push my buttons...
To appall, oh! I've blasted off to oblivion
Needed some space like a NASA mission, but now I'm in an absence... Gone missin'.
Couldn't handle the reaction of sitches being of a portrait in unbalanced dimensions
Hazardous environment with haphazard discipline and put-downs in upheaval via rash decisions
This state of affairs then makes a transition onto my canvas, it's vivid, pitch black with a tint of
Feelin' the blues. "Who the fuck is playing those jazz instruments!?" ...
Yeah life's a nasty bitch but I ain't bitchin', put yourself in my shoes and stand in my position;
Paranoid and anxious as all hell, can't help but act suspicious
Whilst walkin' on prematurely hatched chickens, getting henpecked.
I'm not in good feathers, am I for the birds? It's like I'm trapped and pinned in
Said they'd take me under their damn wings and help me branch out but I'm stick in
The mud; an impractically optimistic and stagnant pessimistic, wacko symptoms, is it Aspie syndrome?
No blame, if you look at my past and think an outrageous circumstance to live in
Could impact my subsistence today then you'd imagine this was predicted
As if it were on the cards to dwell and play solitaire with no hand given
To have thoughts that this is my fruition of melancholy
And although people do reach out, ask me "How is it, goin'?"
I'm all thumbs seeping thru the crack of they' finga's
Stammerin' and whisperin', can't you see you're beating a dead horse?
So please, don't hold your breath... I can hold my own "In no pants" Eh, I know I'm limbless...
Still stumped in life, no leg to stand on it's like I'm staggerin' limpin'
I mean shit, we all need something to lean on...
So I grabbed a pen and, made it my crutch to potentially get a leg up on battling you bitches
I essentially just hit a rough patch, I'm a nitwit
Sorry if I get choked up I just lasso'd my self a necklace
They say "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," so here I am with the needle threaded
At the end of my rope contemplating whether I should cancel my existence.
Don't believe me? Why would I fabricate? I don't think I'm cut out for this
The demons whisper I'm trash and insignificant but fuck that
I say "Cut me some slack I'm twisted," "C'mon adversity, scrap me, I'm persistent."
I've already fought with every fiber of my being and adapted from affliction
This is only a sample of my predicament... So relish in it, it gives me satisfaction and fulfillment, to keep goin'
I've evolved exalted with ultimate and immaculate diction
I guess I'm not impractically optimistic after all
Look on the bright side I've also mastered intuition
I'll keep fighting this depression and get back up and outlast it's wistfulness, challenge antagonistic bullshit
Then write something dope, in a way, I guess you could say it's masochistic
Because art and pain counteract in coexistence.