these times are testing nothing short of depressing but when i sigh i get high breathe back with gratitude for the days im blessed in stress part of the game im hiding from fame 18 years in psyche wards tired of them twisting my brain but from hope i will change even tho im broken fucked up scarrred and slightly deranged anxiety from society that i know is getting closer to cage my minds no prison but when i step out the door from my kitchen it all feels the same tv radio media propaganda getting stronger in waves comfortably numb im just some mothers son and in a way its no gain the pleasure the pain interchanges with rain i go all out just to show that in the end i just prayed no flow of emotion or loss of devotion nor pill nor no potion will fuck with my motion to grow in the shackles of chains so fuck what i write i put my heart on this mic..and if it shows then go show me my pain.. wipe the tears from my eyes hear the last of my cries this life will never be framed.