or that such a fucked up bug inhabited my mind,
and how was I to know that one day, it would kill me,
by my own hand, the most bitter form of mind control,
the one your own body creates.
So I'm looking down when everyone says,
hey, keep your head up.
But you know what, I don't follow the crowd,
and you can find some cool things on the ground,
like hearts and pennies and things with history,
and it really bothers me, when I can look at somebody,
and see how hurt they are, by a world that didn't love them,
it bothers me to see that much pain in somebody,
and I wonder if people can see it when they look at me.
Some days it seems that you would feel better,
if you tried to rip off your skin,
rather than to try to succeed again,
when everything you ever thought you loved is against you.
I've already cracked but I won't break,
and I'll prove to you someday,
that I had a crazy amount of control over myself,
and that everything you did, or could say,
would never hold me down.