I usually have it all figured out
Until I get into my head and begin to doubt
I’ll spend every waking moment scrutinizing
Only for me to end up victimizing
It’s a vicious cycle
One that can only be extinguished by a miracle

I guess I know what I want
Or is it that I know what I don’t want??
Okay maybe I’m more messed up than I imagined
Loose screws maybe, but I can’t stand to be examined
I’ve made myself okay with not being validated
When all I ever craved was to be appreciated

I’m a little grown than I was when I started writing
But somehow it’s still the only way I can numb this aching
When does it ever stop
Is it when I actually start
Is it inevitably never or
In death maybe?